Down By The River
by mykelara
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Alec Hardy's and Ellie Miller's lives would have gone, if the pendant would never have been lost? Fate still brings them together in this AU story, united in seeking justice for those who can't speak for themselves. A slightly different take on the story we are all familiar with (eventual Alec/Ellie).
1. Chapter 1 - Salad

**A/N:** Dear reader – as some of you may know I've been chronicling Alec Hardy's life during the Sandbrook case in "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul". At some point my dear friend hazelmist posed the question what would have happened to Hardy if the pendant hadn't been lost. An idea was sparked from that. This story is the result of that spark. But don't worry, it still is Broadchurch, and fate will find a way to unite Hardy and Miller in a common cause. And true to the idea that some points in time are fixed, neither Hardy nor Miller can completely escape their fate despite this AU version of events. I hope you enjoy a different take on things (and because it's me who's writing this, there's going to be heartache, angst and drama, but also humor, love and certainly feels). (see A/N at the end for further explanations, especially if you haven't read "A Million Holes"; you might enjoy it more if you've met my Alec and his world before, but I think you don't absolutely have to commit to reading the saga that "A Million Holes" has become.)

* * *

 **DOWN BY THE RIVER**

" _When we walked arm in arm  
I felt like we can throw away  
The forces of our past  
And I know too  
It's been the hardest days for you  
Let's throw them out the Window"_

"Down By The River" – Milky Chance

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1 - Salad**

Detective Chief Inspector Alec Hardy scanned the crowd. This time there were about a dozen detectives scattered throughout the room. They looked suspiciously keen and awake for a Monday morning. He hated them already. Not personally, but as a group and what they represented to him. The more eager they were, the more apathy it evoked in him. He really shouldn't be like that, but he envied them and their busy detective lives that he couldn't be a part of any more.

His boss, Chief Constable Liz MacMillan, had told him that this was a great opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the force. He'd been sitting in her office, staring at the wood carvings on her Victorian desk and listening to her lecture about his professional responsibility to – and she had the nerve to quote the bloody manual – _"invest time in developing people by coaching and mentoring them and providing developmental opportunities"_. His first reaction had been a derisive snort, but then she had pinned him down with her piercing eyes until it sunk in that she had been dead serious about the seminar series. And a few weeks later he found himself hiding in a corner and teaching a professional development workshop with the unnervingly catchy title _'Three Birds With One Stone - How To Apprehend A Murder Trio'_. To his utter surprise - and incomprehension - it seemed he had a following, especially among the under thirty, nerdy male detective sergeant group. It drove him nuts.

His 'co-lead' Mike Bailey, a spunky junior faculty member from the academy, went around the room, personally greeting each participant. There weren't any women. Hardy suppressed a sigh and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. This was going to be another long week.

It was his turn to introduce himself.

"Good morning everyone. I am DCI Hardy from the South Me –"

The door slowly opened with a drawn out creak. Hardy's eyes snapped to the widening gap. One hand was glued to his hip while the fingers of the other impatiently tapped his thigh. A mop of curls stuck through the door, framing a woman's face. Her brown eyes widened when she realized he was staring at her. Her lips drew into the most awkward smile he'd ever seen.

"Sorry," she whispered apologetically, her gaze flicking back and forth between his piercing glare and the options for empty chairs.

Hardy sniffed and let out a short groan. The woman clumsily stalked between the chairs until she found a seat while Hardy committed murder with his eyes. She sat down and shot him a wide smile.

Hardy's jaw twitched. "Right. As I said I'm DCI Hard -"

There was a loud and prolonged rustling noise. Hardy's head whipped around and his gaze fell on the perpetrator. It was the woman again. This time she was peeling herself out of what she might call a coat but others undoubtedly would call a monstrosity. The bright orange evoked the image of traffic cones. Hardy dragged a hand over his face and closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, he felt calm enough to continue. "Again, I'm DCI Ha –"

The squeaky noise of a thermos being unscrewed threw him off. He didn't have to look to know who dared to interrupt this time. His patience wearing thin, he plucked his glasses off his nose and tossed them on the desk he'd perched on.

"Tea anyone?" the woman asked in a cheery voice.

Hardy took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was indeed going to be a long week.

* * *

Ellie hated being late, and judging by the look that DCI Hardy had given her, he hated it too. Ellie watched him sulking in a corner while the overly enthusiastic academy teacher was going over the goals and objectives and how much fun they'd be having dissecting horrific murder cases. She found the idea a bit off putting, but then it had been her choice to be here. She'd only come for one reason, to meet the man whose sullen expression was a dead give-away that he wanted to be someplace else even more than her.

They had reached the first coffee break. To mingle and get a feel for each other, the instructor had said. All the other detectives in the room complied happily, but Ellie had a different target in mind. Carefully sneaking up on her oblivious prey, she slowly approached DCI Hardy who was still hiding in a corner. Once she had him trapped, she stuck her hand out and went for it.

"Hiya, I'm Ellie… well, DI Miller, I guess. Don't like the surname thing… from Broadchurch, down south on the coast… we've got some great beaches and beautiful cliffs there, if you ask me..." She looked up and her eyes met Hardy's. She couldn't tell if he was either spectacularly annoyed or simply mortified by her babbling. His already pale face had turned a shade whiter and he was panting slightly. He ignored her hand, muttered something about needing to use the gents and stalked out of the room as quickly as his long legs would carry him.

Ellie found it a bit odd that he had run off like that, but then she'd heard rumors that he wasn't the most social person. When he returned, he looked better. He trudged over and planted his tall figure right in front of her.

"Sorry, about before," he mumbled, ears red. Ellie got the impression he was genuinely chagrined over his behavior which surprised her.

"Alec Hardy," he said, offering her his hand. It was cold and clammy, but with a confident grip.

"Nice to meet you, Alec." He cringed.

"Please, don't call me Alec. I don't like it. Never have. 'M not into using everyone's first names. It's not like we're at some sort of support group here. I mean we sort of are, but still, it's work. And besides why do we all have to be so familiar all the time?" He abruptly stopped, noticing her gaping mouth that was pulling into a small grin. He groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I did it, didn't I? Babbling, I mean." She bit down on her lip, trying very hard not to laugh and nodded. He scrubbed down his face and then shoved his hands in his pocket. "Hardy is fine," he sighed, studying his feet intently.

"Hardy it is then. But you have to call me Ellie," she replied, not hiding her amused smile. Maybe he wasn't that much of a wanker as his reputation made her believe, maybe he was just shy. The corners of his mouth curled up and Ellie was struck by how much his face changed. Gone was the scowl, replaced with crinkles around the eyes and dimples on his gaunt cheeks.

"We'll see about that," he smirked and left her behind to return to loitering in his corner.

This was going to be an interesting week, Ellie thought when they resumed.

* * *

Ellie was dumbfounded by the transformation that happened once Hardy was engulfed in talking about how to approach a murder case.

Gone was the scowl and the slumped posture. He stood tall in front of the whiteboard, one hand in his pocket, the other one wielding the dry erase marker and gracefully jotting down his teaching points. His Scottish lilt carried pleasantly through the room, rising and falling with his speech. He was passionate. Not about teaching, not about being in this room, but about solving a crime and bringing justice to the families of the victims. He believed in his work.

Ellie began to understand why this man had such a following. Her own DS had been forced to go to the seminar and had come back raving about how outstanding Hardy was. He had also said, that Hardy was an arse, but it was okay, because he was bloody brilliant.

"You have to ask yourself what are the key points? What is important and what is clutter? What's the method? What does that say about the perpetrator? Was it planned, was it spontaneous? Where is the murder scene? What do we learn from that? What is the motive? Who had opportunity? What doesn't add up? Where did they deviate from routine? What do they gain? Or lose? And you can't trust," Hardy ended is incessant list of questions. He had underlined every question with a tap on the board. His eyes were gleaming with eagerness and his face was flushed.

Ellie watched the others hang on his every word. It was astounding. Then he stopped and turned back into that lurker in the corner who frowned and pouted. Unbelievable.

* * *

At lunch, she stalked him in the coffee shop.

"Do you mind?" she asked and plopped down opposite him without waiting for a response.

His eyebrow went up. "Does it matter?"

She grinned. "Nope."

"Right. You always this chipper?" he growled, stabbing an innocent cucumber violently with his fork.

Her grin grew wider. "Yup."

He glared at her and then rolled his eyes. Another cucumber fell victim to his war against the poor vegetables. He eyed her fish and chips when the waitress brought it over. There was a longing gleam in his glance and a tomato was stabbed to death when he refocused his attention on his rabbit food.

"I hate salad," she said nonchalantly, watching his reaction. His movements stopped for a split second and his ears turned red. She was right, he hated it too.

"Want some?" she asked innocently, shoving her plate closer to him. Hardy's gaze flicked back and forth between her face and her food.

"I can't eat that," he sighed.

Ellie noted the odd way of refusing her offer.

"Miller, why are you here?" he wanted to know, his exasperation emphasizing the Scottish accent.

"For lunch," she replied, deliberately misunderstanding him. He huffed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"Seriously?" His face scrunched up in annoyance. Ellie enjoyed how easily he was riled up. She grinned and stuffed another chip in her mouth.

"What makes you think I'm not one of your nerdy groupies?" she asked innocently.

His eyes bore into hers and there was a murderous fire in them that broadened Ellie's grin.

"You're female, over thirty and as far from being a nerd as I am. Besides your constabulary already sent someone to this seminar so you're here by _choice_ ," he explained swiftly, stabbing at the shredded carrots. He raised his eyebrow and pointed his carrot loaded fork at her. "So, _why_ are you here then?"

Ellie didn't know if she should feel flattered or threatened that he had apparently looked into her background.

Reluctantly, she said, "I've got this child murder case –"

Hardy threw down his fork and grunted. "No. Not doing it," he growled, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. His face had grown a shade paler and he forcefully pushed his chair back. It made a screeching noise and a few heads turned.

"Oh, come on Hardy, you haven't even heard what I have to say," Ellie threw at him, annoyed about the blunt rejection.

Hardy stood and glared down at her. His hazel eyes had turned dark and there was something in them that made Ellie shudder. He bent down, his face an inch away from hers. "I don't do dead children. It's not good for the heart," he said, eerily calm and utterly sincere. Then he spun around, snatched up his coat and stalked away, the tails of his black Macintosh billowing behind him.

"Bollocks," Ellie cursed, finding consolation in another chip.

* * *

Hardy ran out of the coffee shop as if he had seen a ghost. It wasn't that far from the truth. He'd suspected that Miller was attending the seminar because of an unsolved case. She wouldn't have been the first one. No one though had approached him with a child murder so far.

Hardy slowed down and eventually had to stop. Storming off after being emotionally thrown off balance was the perfect way to upset his heart. He braced himself against a lamp post, rubbing his chest. It had been a while since he had two attacks in the same day – in fact it had been awhile since he had had _any_ attack – and both had been caused by the same person. If he continued like this, he'd be dead by the end of the week.

His hand automatically went for his pockets and pulled out his pills. Lost in his world of rivers and dead children, he popped two in his palm and promptly dropped them when a loud "Oi!" startled him. His heart jolted and his chest seized up. He sagged against the lamp post, panting and desperately trying to calm down.

"Hardy, why the hell did you run off like that?" Ellie Miller yelled at him from a few feet behind.

He didn't have enough air to reply, so he stayed mute. She caught up with him and stepped around the post to face him.

"Jesus, Hardy. You look like shit if you don't mind me saying. Are you all right?" There was genuine concern in her voice and her hand came to rest on his elbow.

"'M fine," he wheezed.

She tilted her head, doubt written all over her face. "You don't seem fine to me. Have you got asthma or something?" she asked curiously.

It was a good guess, considering that he was clinging to a lamp post for dear life and struggling to breathe. He took a mental note as he'd never thought of using that as an excuse.

"Something like it," he mumbled, his ears burning. He was lucky, his heart decided to be a good sport and settle down, even without his medication. "Sorry about before."

"Do you always run off when someone says something you don't want to hear? It's a bit weird," Miller commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you always upset people when you talk to them?" he snapped. He pushed off the lamp post and started walking away. It irked him greatly when he noted that she had to slow down to fall in step with him. _Bloody heart_. She was still wittering next to him when a sudden pause in her steady flow of words made him realize she was waiting for him to say something. He hadn't been paying any attention, focused on such menial tasks as breathing and staying upright.

"Hardy?" she prompted.

"What?" he barked, more annoyed at himself than at her.

"Ach, unbelievable. Have you been listening?" she wanted to know angrily. He gave her a blank stare, letting her guess the answer.

"God, are you always like this?" she groaned. He shrugged.

"You don't have to follow me around," he suggested bluntly.

"I came here to talk to you. 'Course I have to follow you around, you knob," Miller argued indignantly.

"Oh, stalk me and insult me, that's a way to a man's heart," Hardy exclaimed sarcastically. Ironically in his case, it had worked on his dodgy ticker.

"Will you quit already? All I meant to do was ask for some advice. It's an eleven-year-old boy we're talking about, my son's best mate and the child of my best friend." Her voice had changed to serious, all banter gone. The pain in it tugged on his crummy heart. He halted abruptly and it took her a couple of steps to realize he had. She turned around, an innocent hopefulness on her face that touched him.

"How long ago?" Hardy asked against his better judgement.

Miller let out a big sigh. "Four weeks. He was found on the beach at Broadchurch."

Hardy swallowed. He hated the ocean, he hated the beach, and particularly _that_ beach. He closed his eyes briefly, sucking in a deep calming breath.

"I've got to get back to the seminar. Maybe we can talk about it after?" he suggested reluctantly.

"Oh, you're inviting me for supper?"

"What? No, that's not –" Hardy tried to protest, but she was an unstoppable force, ignoring him completely.

"That's brilliant. Wouldn't know where to go in this place anyway. Where do you live?" she babbled on happily.

Hardy dragged his hands down his face. Tess was going to murder him. "Miller, that's not what I meant," he groaned.

Her disappointed face was too much to handle. Her wide brown eyes reminded him of a beaten puppy. Come to think of it, it was Monday and Tess worked the late shift those days. Daisy would be home, but she loved having people round.

"Fine. I warn you though, there'll be salad," he gave in. "I'll text you the address." On a second thought, he added, "Do you have a car?"

She nodded.

"You can drive us, Miller," he stated, not allowing any room for discussion.

"What? Didn't you come with your own car?" She was clearly annoyed by his demand.

"No," he stated curtly, hoping she wouldn't pry. He shot her a sideways glance. There was a smirk on her face and he feared what would come out of her mouth next.

"Did they take your license for drunk driving?" she sniggered.

"No. Speeding," he lied smoothly, having heard the remark a million times before since he had to give up driving. He was almost disappointed with her lack of imagination, jumping to the most obvious explanation.

"Speeding, ey? How fast did you go for them to take your license?" she teased. He didn't bother answering. With a grin, she added, "Couldn't have been that fast. After all, they caught you doing it."

He rolled his eyes and held the door open for her. "Stop wittering, Miller," he growled. She gave him a radiant smile and slipped past him, her hideous orange jacket rustling loudly in his ears.

He sighed inwardly. Indeed, it was going to be a long week.

* * *

 **A/N:** The split off point for this AU is in Chapter 26 of "A Million Holes" – the idea was, what would have happened if Tess had come home that night and they would have talked. I don't want to give too much away in case there are readers out there who haven't read it yet and would like to.

I will give further additional info on OCs and other events as needed while we get further into this story if it's not explained already anyway as I realize that not everyone will have read the saga that "A Million Holes" has become. I really hope that you as the readers will enjoy the story and I'm looking forward to your comments (or questions if it's too confusing).

A big THANK YOU to those who have served as test audience – Hazelmist, KTRose, creamcolored-converse and franzi86. I am very grateful for your patience, your input and that you listened to my whining and insecurities. This is for all of you!

Oh and one last thing... this is by no means replacing "The Ocean Breathes Salty". I'm working very hard on the next chapter as well as finishing "A Million Holes". This story just didn't let me go and I had to write it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Heart Condition

**A/N:** Thanks everyone who's been reading and leaving comments. It's much appreciated! Some questions might be answered in this chapter, others might be raised. Bear with me, you'll learn everything as the story unfolds. Ellie's coming over for supper... Spoiler alert – this chapter contains serious spoilers for both parts of "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul". I hope you'll enjoy the continuation.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Heart Condition**

At the end of the day, Ellie led Hardy to her car. He looked exhausted and Ellie almost felt bad for inviting herself to supper. She hated eating alone, so she had pounced on the opportunity, very well knowing that it hadn't been what Hardy had in mind.

He folded his lanky body into her small vehicle and closed his eyes briefly. His complexion had never recovered from the grey color that he'd had since she caught him leaning against that lamp post. She wondered what was really wrong with him. She didn't buy the asthma excuse for one second. Whatever it was, she was willing to bet a lot of money that it was part of why he wasn't on field duty and had been relegated to doing the seminars.

"Where to, Hardy?" she asked when he didn't stir after she'd started the engine. He startled, sucked in some air through the nose and grimaced. He worried her, but she didn't say anything.

"Sorry," he breathed, dazed from the cat nap he undoubtedly had drifted off to. He began to give her directions, guiding her through the busy streets of Sandbrook.

"Did you not sleep last night?" she wondered when he dozed off a second time and they missed a turn, having to double back.

He rubbed his tired eyes. "Who says I sleep?" he yawned absentmindedly. "Take a left here, and then it's the third house on the right. You can park in the driveway. My wife's not coming until later."

"Oh, so it's just you, me and the salad then?" Ellie asked, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable with the idea of visiting a mostly strange man alone in his house.

"Nah, my daughter is home." He yawned again and then suddenly straightened up. "Shit. I forgot to tell her that I'm bringing someone round." He sounded like a child who was going to be in a lot of trouble. Ellie pulled up and looked at him, an amused smile on her face.

"You're in for a bollocking, aren't you?"

Hardy gave her a sheepish glance, tugged on his ear and nodded. His pink cheeks shone brightly on his pale face even in the dimming light.

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen," Hardy sighed. "She likes company. But she has _rules_. And I never bring anyone home so it'll be a total surpr –"

Hardy stopped when Ellie broke out in laughter.

"What's so funny?" he queried, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Of course you wouldn't." She wiped at her tears.

"What wouldn't I?" His confusion only had grown.

"Bring someone round," she stated, stifling her last chuckles. His mouth gaped open. He took in a breath to say something, but didn't. Instead he pressed his mouth into a thin line and fumbled awkwardly with the buckle.

Ellie resisted the urge to help him and bit on her lower lip. "You could tell her I coerced you," she suggested innocently, very much aware that that was exactly what had happened.

He snorted. "Ha, good one." He had finally managed to untangle himself from the belt and clambered out of the car. It didn't escape her scrutinizing eyes that he swayed a little and held onto the car door a tad too long, before shutting it and walking up the driveway.

* * *

Hardy was spent.

The seminars tended to take a toll on him, too much human interaction and too much talking. His usual desk job allowed him to rest more. As if he needed any more rest. The administrative work that had come with the promotion bored the living hell out of him and he cursed the day he'd agreed to accept it. Not that he had had a choice. His superiors, Ed Baxter and Liz MacMillan, had been very clear about that. It was either that job or be sent on medical leave. Sadly, they had been right though. His bloody heart was preventing him from doing what he had wanted to do for the rest of his life.

He'd fallen asleep twice by the time they reached his house. It was pathetic and embarrassing. Adding insult to injury, he hadn't even gotten to do anything fun to provoke his heart acting up. It was Ellie bloody Miller's fault that he had had two attacks in less than twelve hours and now felt like shit. And all he got out of it was a ride home.

Maybe he should have listened to his cardiologist, Emily Abbott, after all. She had been very reluctant to clear him for the teaching job this time around. Her concern was tangible when he had seen her the week before and for a good reason. His last checkup was only a month ago, but his heart function had declined significantly since then. Not that it had been stellar to begin with. It hadn't been since that fateful day over a year ago when he'd chased down Ricky Gillespie at the riverbank. He'd won the race, but lost everything else. It turned out Ricky was not to be trifled with. He'd beaten up Hardy and by the time reinforcement finally came to his rescue, Ricky had sent him into near fatal cardiac arrest. He had never been able to fully recover from the damage that had been done that day.

Hardy slowly got out of the car and held onto the door, fighting the vertigo that had been lingering since earlier. Daisy would know immediately that he wasn't feeling well. Hopefully she'd be distracted enough by the surprise visitor to keep quiet. Hardy didn't want Miller to know how poor his health was. It was irrational to feel self-conscious about being ill, but he couldn't help himself. He hated being this weak.

Miller was trailing him to the door while he trudged up the driveway. His thoughts travelled back to the last time he'd brought someone round unexpectedly. It had been a woman also. Emily Abbott had come to his aid when he was unable to find the courage to tell his family about his heart condition. It had been the night before he was supposed to undergo a cardiac catheterization and the placement of a pacemaker. It was eerie how clear the memory of that evening was etched into his mind when he couldn't recall so many other things.

* * *

 _Fifteen months earlier..._

Tess had come home late. She greeted her family happily, in a much better mood than she'd been in lately. Hardy noted the glow on her cheeks and a smile he hadn't seen in a while. When he asked her what had pleased her that much, her face paled and she growled "Nothing" at him as if he'd reminded her of something unpleasant. The good mood was gone.

Disheartened, Hardy sneaked out to the bathroom and called Emily, letting her know that if her offer still stood he'd take her up on it. Not hesitating, she promised to be there in twenty minutes. Hardy trudged back to the living room and was welcomed by joyous laughter from the most important people in his life. He leaned against the door frame, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watched them with a smile before he interrupted the light-hearted banter between daughter and mother.

"Erm… I…" He paused, nervously rubbing his hand over the back of his head. Two pairs of eyes turned his way, one smiling, the other annoyed at the interruption. He gathered his courage and stepped into the room.

"I invited someone over. She's going to be here in a bit," he mumbled, gaze fixed on the floor.

"What? Bloody hell, Alec. Why would you do that? It's late and I didn't come home to stay up all night," Tess laid into him.

"Who is it, Dad?" Daisy asked, curiosity sparked by her father's uncharacteristic behavior.

"Erm… she's…" Again he faltered. He peeked at his watch. His backup was hopefully less than fifteen minutes away.

"Oh, come on, Dad. Don't be like that. You invite over some woman in the middle of the night and then you can't even tell us who she is?" Daisy was indignant.

Hardy's legs felt wobbly and the lightheadedness he had been able to ignore two minutes ago, now made him sway ever so slightly. He took a quick step forward and braced himself on the back of one of the armchairs. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. It would certainly be rather ironic, if he passed out right before he could tell his family what was wrong with him.

"You okay, Alec?" Tess asked sharply. He nodded silently and slowly lowered his body onto the chair. He lifted his gaze which was met by Daisy's frightened face.

"Don't be scared, darlin'," he said softly and forced a smile. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her palm. "Remember when I told you earlier today that I'm seeing a doctor?" Daisy's head bobbed up and down. "That's the person who's coming by."

"Why?" Daisy wanted to know, a worried frown etched into her forehead.

Hardy moved in the chair so that he could see both of them. "Because I need to talk to you about something. And I don't think I can do it alone," he explained with a quiver in his voice. Tess's lips were pressed into a thin line and she balled her hands into fists. Daisy's eyes glittered.

He was saved by the bell. Daisy jumped up before he could even move. Two minutes later, Emily Abbott was entering his living room. She smiled at Hardy and stuck out her hand to greet Tess.

"Mrs. Hardy, nice to see you again. I don't know if you remember me from the hospital," Emily said. Tess took the proffered hand reluctantly. Hardy frowned and wondered what had transpired between the two women when he and Daisy had been in hospital a few weeks ago. Nothing good judging from the look on his wife's face.

"I do," Tess stated curtly. Hardy bit back a sigh and invited everyone to sit. Emily took the other armchair. Tess and Daisy plopped down onto the sofa, supporting each other through closeness.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Emily shot Hardy a quick glance, and then, prompted by the quiet plea in his eyes, she didn't waste any more time.

"I'm Emily Abbott and I'm a cardiologist at South Mercia University Hospital. I met Alec about a month ago when you were in hospital Daisy." Daisy looked up with wide eyes, staring at her father. Hardy squirmed in his seat but stayed mute.

"Alec asked me to come here tonight to help him tell you about his health problem. I'm going to explain it to you as best as I can. Please, interrupt me with questions any time," Emily continued.

Hardy watched Daisy grab her mother's hand and dig her fingers into Tess's palm. Tess put her other arm around her, shooting a quick glance at Hardy.

"Alec, do you want to start?" Emily invited him, head tilted. There was a big lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. All he could do was shake his head.

"All right then. This isn't going to be easy news," Emily warned them before continuing. "Alec has a serious heart condition, a rare form of arrhythmia, meaning his heart doesn't beat properly."

Hardy's hands kneaded his thighs. He couldn't look at them, but he heard Daisy's stifled sob and Tess sucked in a breath sharply.

Emily shifted in her chair and let her eyes rest on his family. "Daisy, when you had the appendicitis, your father collapsed at your bedside and needed resuscitation because his heart had stopped. That's how we found out about it. He was very lucky that he was in a hospital at the time. He might not have survived otherwise." Her voice was soft and full of empathy for the crying girl in front of her. Tess glared at Hardy, her eyes ablaze with the fury of a mother whose child had been wounded.

"Why did you have to tell her that?" she spat. Hardy flinched.

"Because it's important for all of you to understand how serious this condition is. We are not just talking about some skipped heart beats or palpitations. We are talking about a life threatening disease," Emily ploughed on. Hardy hated to see the pain on his daughter's face, but Emily was right. They finally needed to know the full truth as upsetting as it might be.

Daisy wiped at her nose. "But you can do something about it, right? You can make it go away?" Her wide eyes were looking hopefully at Emily.

Emily hesitated the briefest of moments and Hardy knew it was time for him to speak.

"Darlin', it's not going to go away," he began quietly. Her gaze whipped towards him. "Apparently I've had this all my life, it's a hereditary thing."

It didn't escape his attention that Tess's head snapped up at the revelation that there was a possibility that he might have passed it on to their child. Their eyes met and he shook his head ever so slightly as an answer to her silent question. The relief in her face was obvious. He briefly smiled at her, before he continued nervously,

"I've been taking medication, but that's not good enough. I need a pacemaker and something called an implantable defibrillator to keep my heart in check." He swallowed hard. "I'm having the procedure done tomorrow," he revealed tonelessly.

"Oh, Dad!" Daisy exclaimed desperately and threw herself against his chest. He wrapped his long arms around her and kissed her on the head.

"It's going to be all right. 'M fine," he whispered into her hair.

"No you're not," she protested, words muffled by his shirt. She wiggled out of his embrace and placed her palm over his heart. "I can feel it beating so fast and it's _jumping_." Tears were running down her cheeks. He wiped at them with his thumb, pressing his lips together. He didn't trust his voice. Daisy was right, his heart rate had been all over the place since the conversation had started and he wasn't feeling too well. He was still cupping Daisy's cheek, when his head lolled back and he gasped for air.

The next thing he knew, Emily was by his side, asking him something. He couldn't focus and didn't comprehend her. A bitter taste in his mouth brought his senses back and the world around him became clearer again.

"Alec, you bloody moron, just swallow those bloody pills already!" Tess yelled at him and years of ingrained habit of listening to her kicked in.

Shivering, he was lying limply in the chair, barely able to process what was going on around him. Tess and Emily were having a heated conversation that he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

"I'm not irresponsible, Mrs. Hardy," Emily defended herself against some accusation that Tess had thrown at her.

"I would have hospitalized him on Monday already, but he refused. So yes, I do think it's a good idea to send him there. I can admit him directly, and then we can get the procedure done tomorrow," Emily told Tess who nodded vigorously.

"Good. Then that's what we're going to do. I'll call the ambulance now. I'm not letting him delay things any longer," Tess stated resolutely.

"Don't wanna go to… the hospital," Hardy wheezed, desperately trying to fight off the inevitable.

Tess spun around and was right in his face. "Alec Gavin Hardy, you're being a bloody idiot and it will end now. You can't make the decision for yourself, fine. I'm making it for you. You're going to the hospital and they will whip you into shape so you can get that bloody pacemaker inserted." Her voice was trembling. She meant him to think she was angry, but he saw the worry and fear in her eyes. His lips curled up the tiniest bit and he nodded. She retreated in triumph and executed her plan as precisely as she would have a murder investigation.

It was cold in the room and his teeth chattered. He had his eyes closed again, until he felt someone tuck a blanket around him. It was Daisy. She smiled at him.

"Let me take care of you, Dad, please" she whispered in his ear and pecked a kiss on his cheek. He caught her hand and squeezed it.

"I love you darlin', always," he breathed.

"I love you too, Dad. We'll get through this."

She held his hand until they packed him up in the ambulance. She held his hand until they wheeled him into the pre-op area. She held his hand when he woke up after the successful operation where his heart had stopped twice, but a new chance for life had been given to him. And she held his hand when Tess told him CS Ed Baxter had found Pippa's missing pendant in Ashworth's car and that they got him.

* * *

"Are you going to open that door or just stare at it for the rest of the night?" Miller barked at him, pulling him back from the past.

Hardy blinked, mumbled an apology and turned the key to let them in. Loud music hit them like a wall and Hardy tripped over a backpack and a jacket that had been thrown carelessly onto the hallway floor. He caught himself against the wall and cursed loudly. Ellie sniggered behind him.

"I've got a twelve-year-old son and a toddler. It's a miracle I haven't broken my neck yet," she chatted away as if they had known each other for years. Hardy always wondered how people did that.

He slowly bent down to pick up Daisy's discarded belongings. It was a reflex which he regretted immediately when the world around him went spinning. Blindly reaching for support, he moaned and before he knew it, Ellie had grabbed his arm and pulled him up against the wall.

"Whoa, Hardy. What the hell was that?" Miller asked concerned. She picked up the backpack and jacket and moved them to the side, while all he could do was to watch and wait until his heart decided to pick up speed and pump blood properly. He briefly considered hiding the fact that he needed to take his pills, but reason won. His trembling fingers dug the blister pack out of his pockets. Miller didn't let him out of her sight. Oddly enough, he didn't feel awkward about it. He dry swallowed his medication, and after a few minutes he recovered enough to talk.

"'M sorry," he rasped. "It's been a long day."

"A long day? You're kiddin', right? You nearly pass out in front of me and your explanation is, it's been a long day?" Miller sounded annoyed.

"He's got a heart condition that he likes to hide from people," Daisy chimed in from the stairs.

Hardy shot her a daggered stare. She glared back at him, not intimidated at all.

"'S not a condition," he wheezed.

"Ah, it totally is a condition," Ellie muttered under her breath which earned her a deadly glance from Hardy.

Daisy had used his moment of distraction and had sneaked up on him before he could escape. She snatched his hand and counted his too slow pulse.

"Dad!" she cried out worriedly and began dragging him toward the kitchen. Hardy sighed, giving in to the exhaustion and letting Daisy take over. While he was passing Ellie, his gaze fell on his guest who observed the spectacle with wide eyes.

"'M sorry. Should have told you I wasn't feeling well. The kitchen is over there." He beckoned her to come along and she followed them obediently. He almost missed her quietly muttered "Knob".

* * *

Ellie trudged after Hardy and his daughter. He valiantly tried not to trip over his own feet, but it was clear to Ellie that whatever heart problem he had, it was rendering him rather useless at the moment.

He slumped down on a chair, chest heaving with his labored breaths. He shot her another glance. He looked so embarrassed that Ellie felt bad for him.

"Dad, did you take your extra pills?" Daisy asked sternly. Hardy nodded. "How about the others, did you skip them today?" This time he shook his head.

The girl's face scrunched up and she chewed on her lip. It was striking how much she resembled her father. Her eyes that were the same shade as her father's scrutinized him.

"Did Emily really give you the go ahead last week?" she blurted out, not hiding the underlying implication that whatever it was that she was referring to might not have happen.

"Daisy, please. Do we have to talk about this? We have a guest. I'm _fine_." He tried to wiggle himself out of the answer. Ellie didn't need to know them to see that that had been the wrong thing to say.

"You're not _fine_ ," Daisy yelled and barged out of the room. Ellie heard her thudding up the stairs, followed by the sound of a slammed door. Hardy flinched. Then, he sighed deeply and buried his face in his palms. He dragged his long fingers over his stubble and looked apologetically at Ellie.

"We have a history," he said as if that would explain everything.

"Ah, and what history would that be?" She didn't really know why she asked, but she was captivated by the drama that was playing out in front of her.

Hardy ran his tongue over his teeth and remained mute. The silence stretched out until it was interrupted by Ellie's growling stomach.

Hardy's head snapped up and his eyes suddenly focused on her. He had been miles away.

"'M sorry," he exclaimed and hastily scrambled to his feet. He held on tight to the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white. "I invited you for supper and now you're starving. Don't know what I was thinking."

Ellie stood up as well. "It's all right. We both know you didn't want to do this and I weaseled my way in. You're not feeling well. I'll go back to the hotel and find a place to eat on the way." She meant it. Hardy wasn't in any shape to entertain company.

He stared at her with wide eyes, blinked once and his whole body went limp, crumpling into itself like a house of cards. Before Ellie could prevent his fall, he thudded to the floor, hitting his head against the refrigerator door.

Ellie froze. "Erm… Daisy?!" she shouted. And then again louder and with more urgency. "Daisy!?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the cliff hanger! (well not really - I've been told I'm evil) **  
**

I hope the flashback worked. That part was originally written as a prologue, but after discussing with my test audience, I decided against using it as such. It is the moment though where everything splits off, where the two universes diverge and therefore I felt it was important to tell it.

For those who haven't read "A Million Holes" and might be confused about my take on Hardy's heart condition, here's a brief explanation. The explanation contains spoilers for that story, so if you have any interest in reading it, don't go on.

Hardy has a hereditary condition called Long QT syndrome that causes too slow of a heart rate as well as possible fatal arrhythmia episode with an abnormally fast heartbeat and eventual cardiac arrest. He found out about it when he collapsed at Daisy's bedside and they barely saved his life. Since then he's been avoiding getting the pacemaker for various reasons until he couldn't anymore. The flashback scene is late into the Sandbrook case, Lee is already arrested, and they are searching for his car. Hardy couldn't put off getting the procedure done and so he goes for it even if it's in the middle of the investigation. In the original story, they can't place it because he is too sick. In this story they can... we'll see soon what happened after.


	3. Chapter 3 - Supper

**A/N:** Thanks for all the comments, kudos and favorites. I'm very happy that my little AU story is keeping you intrigued. It's steadily growing ;-) And one of the best parts is that Ellie gets to meet Daisy very early on... hope you'll enjoy the continuation. Oh and all the questions about the pacemaker... I promise the explanation will come soon. Thank you as always to my trusty beta/editor HAZELMIST. You're a star.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Supper**

Ellie wavered between checking Hardy and running upstairs. She stooped down and felt for his pulse. He was breathing, but his heart was beating alarmingly slowly.

"What happened?" Daisy sprinted across the kitchen and knelt down next to her father. She examined him with practiced moves, making Ellie wonder how often she'd been in this situation before.

"He stood up and a few moments later he passed out. He hit his head on the fridge," Ellie explained swiftly. "I'm going to call 999," she added, fishing through her purse for her mobile.

"Don't. It's okay. He'll come around shortly," Daisy held her back. She carefully inspected his scalp and face. Then she moved him into a more comfortable position. "At least this time he's not bleeding," she stated matter-of-factly and grabbed one of the chair cushions to put it under his head.

She stood, walked into the adjacent room, and came back with a blanket. She draped it over him, tucking it tightly around him. She brushed the hair out of his face and smiled lovingly at him.

"He gets chilly with the cold sweat and stuff," she remarked, sounding way too old for her age.

Ellie watched her quietly. Her heart went out to this girl who wasn't much older than Tom and who was taking such tender care of her apparently seriously ill father. She stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Daisy, are you all right, sweetheart?" she asked gently. When the girl didn't say anything, she turned her around to be greeted by her tear-stained face. Ellie didn't care that she had first met this girl less than half an hour ago. She pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. You said so yourself, right?" she soothed her. Daisy nodded against her chest. Ellie stroked her long hair and pressed a quick kiss on her crown.

"Do you want me to call your mother?" Ellie asked, only now remembering that they probably should. Daisy shook her head.

"No. She's at work and busy. Dad and I can handle it. We've been there before." Daisy wiped at her tears and there was a defiant tone in her voice.

Ellie hummed questioningly. She found it odd, but didn't want to interfere too much. She let go of Daisy and felt Hardy's pulse again. It had picked up speed and his color looked better. Daisy was right, he was coming around.

The girl had sat down at the table. "I don't even know your name or who you are," she sighed. "Typical Dad, never brings anyone home and then that one time he does, he passes out before even offering a drink." A small smile curled up her lips.

Ellie pulled up another chair and took a spot opposite Daisy. She smiled as well. "I'm Ellie Miller. I met your father at the seminar today and I invited myself for supper."

Daisy looked at her appraisingly. "Wow, he's never gone for that before. Are you a copper too?"

"Yup. I'm a DI at Broadchurch down in Dorset," Ellie said.

Daisy got up and stepped around her still father as if this was the most normal thing to happen. She gently pushed him over a bit in order to be able to open the fridge. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. I made some pasta earlier, we could heat it up. Unless you're into salad," Daisy offered, head buried deeply inside the fridge.

"God no. I hate salad. Watched your dad eat one earlier and that was enough for one day," Ellie joked to lighten the mood.

Daisy chuckled and peeked over the fridge door. "He's quite… determined when he eats it, isn't he? I always wonder what the poor vegetables have done to him or if he's simply taking out his exasperation with life on them."

Ellie joined Daisy's giggle. Daisy heated up the pasta on the stove, divided it up into two bowls and placed them on the table. She added a third plate and three glasses with water. "In case he wakes up hungry. Usually he doesn't, just wants to go to sleep after he's had an episode like this…" she trailed off, staring at her pasta.

"Daisy, what's wrong with him?" Ellie asked quietly. When she saw the girl pressing her lips together, she added hastily, "You don't have to say anything. It's okay." It wasn't really any of her business, but it did feel a bit weird to sit and eat supper, while the person she had talked into inviting her was lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. Daisy's seemingly poised behavior didn't make it better.

"He's got a heart condition. A rare form of arrhythmia. He gets these episodes when his heart beats too slowly and he passes out. Sometimes it beats too fast and that's dangerous because it can stop," Daisy explained hesitantly.

Ellie frowned. "What do you mean, it can stop?"

"Exactly that. His heart stops. It's already happened a few times," she ended with a whisper. Ellie looked at her in shock. She hadn't expected that. She resisted the urge to check on Hardy again. Her eyes wandered to the man next to her feet, taking a closer look. His face was gaunt under the stubbly beard and he wasn't only slim but too skinny. Once she knew, it was quite obvious he didn't look healthy. He disguised himself well though.

"Is that why he doesn't drive?" It was a silly question, but Ellie's brain had trouble processing the information. She latched onto what came to her mind first.

"Yeah. We almost crashed one day when he got lightheaded and ran a red light. He was so upset, he hasn't driven since then," Daisy replied.

"When was that?" Ellie felt herself slip into interrogation mode. It was an easy failsafe and a well ingrained habit.

"A bit over a year ago."

Ellie did the math in her head. It sounded like he might have already been ill during the Sandbrook case. And yet, he had solved it. Astounding and potentially stupid, considering how serious his condition seemed to be.

They fell silent and ate their food. Ellie's appetite had suffered from the events, but she forced herself to eat something. Daisy picked at her pasta and couldn't have eaten more than half a dozen pieces when Hardy stirred.

Daisy jumped up and was on her knees next to him before he even finished the slight movement.

"Dad?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. She held his hand, nervously rubbing his palm with her thumb. He squeezed it and Daisy's face relaxed. His eyes fluttered open and he muttered something. Ellie couldn't comprehend a single slurred word, his heavy Scottish accent not making things easier. Daisy seemed to be more in tune with him.

"No hospital, Dad. We're home." Daisy hadn't let go of his hand and Ellie noted how tight his grasp was. If this was scary for her, how frightened must he be? His eyes were trained on the ceiling until they finally focused and found Daisy's face.

"'M sorry," were the first words that Ellie understood. He said that a lot. Ellie left her chair and stooped down on his other side.

"Hi there," she said awkwardly, unsure how to approach the situation.

His head turned and he looked at her in confusion. His widening eyes gave away the moment when he remembered who she was. His grey face turned crimson. Sitting up was a struggle until Daisy and Ellie both helped him. They carefully leaned his torso against the kitchen cabinets. He groaned and rubbed the spot where he had collided with the fridge. Daisy hastily got to her feet and grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer. She gently pressed it against his head.

"Dad, do you think you got a concussion again?" she asked fearfully. Ellie wondered how many times in the past Hardy might have taken a hit while collapsing.

"No, darlin'. I don't think so," he reassured his daughter and forced a smile. A shiver ran through him and Ellie remembered what Daisy had said before. She timidly pulled the blanket over his propped up knees. He looked up with a surprised expression on his face.

"Thanks, Miller," he muttered and tugged the blanket up under his chin. His teeth were chattering. Ellie eyed him and made a decision. She snatched his arm and slung it over her shoulder.

"What are you doing? Let go of me." His voice had shifted an octave up. He swatted weakly at her hand.

"I'm helping you up, so you can lie down somewhere more comfortable, you bloody idiot," Ellie groaned, his weight pulling on her. Daisy was quicker to pick up on her intentions than her addled father. She grabbed his other arm and all three of them together managed to get him to the living room sofa. He fell heavily on it and curled up into a ball. Daisy pulled his shoes off his feet and tucked the blanket around him.

"Keep him awake, would you please?" Daisy ordered Ellie, rushing back into the kitchen.

Ellie perched on the edge of the sofa. "So, does this happen often?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He slowly shook his head which was probably throbbing. A nasty purple bump was forming right at his hairline. "No. It hasn't in a while. I wasn't kidding when I said it was a long day."

Ellie thought back to when she had found him clinging to the lamp post. He had run away from her twice that day, both times he had seemed upset. "I didn't cause this, did I?" she wondered out loud, feeling extremely awkward.

He was a bad liar and his murmured "No" was the least convincing 'no' she'd ever heard.

"Oh my god, I did, didn't I? I caused you to have a heart attack. Twice." Ellie couldn't believe it.

"'S not a heart attack, Millah," he slurred, his Scottish accent drawing out her name.

She whacked him on the arm. "Ach, don't be a smart arse." And for good measure she added, "Knob."

"'M not a knob," he whined, his eyelids falling shut. She whacked him again.

His eyes popped open. "Oi, why'd ya do tha'?" His Scottish burr was getting thicker with his apparent fatigue.

"Your daughter said to keep you awake," Ellie reminded him. He hummed in agreement and snuggled deeper under the blanket. Ellie was about to shake him when Daisy hurried back into the room.

Ellie helped her to prop him up and force down a handful of tablets. Hardy might as well have had his own pharmacy, considering how many pills Daisy had brought in. He gagged them all down obediently. He was asleep before he even hit the pillow.

Ellie sighed and followed Daisy back into the kitchen. She picked up her purse and shrugged her jacket on.

"Wow, that's some color," Daisy exclaimed. Ellie couldn't tell if it was in awe or in disgust. She knew a lot of people felt very strongly about her windbreaker, herself included. They called it an eye sore. She, however, loved it – the painfully bright color, the boldness of it all. Judging from the grin on Daisy's face it was a positive comment.

"Yeah, I know. But I love it," she admitted wholeheartedly.

"Good for you." Daisy voiced her approval with a healthy portion of enthusiasm. Ellie's lips curled up.

They walked to the door together. Before Ellie left, she needed to get something off her chest.

"Tell your dad I'm sorry about upsetting him, please," Ellie urged Daisy.

"Why don't you tell him yourself tomorrow?" Daisy seemed confused. So was Ellie.

"Because I won't see him," Ellie stated disappointedly.

"'Course you will, at the seminar," Daisy countered.

"What do you mean? He's ill and needs to rest. I presume he's not going to be there after what happened today," Ellie pointed out what she thought was obvious.

"Nah, he's gonna be there. Rest assured, that's what he always does. Unless he's chained to a hospital bed. He thinks resting is a waste of his time." Daisy tried to be humorous about it, but there wasn't any conviction behind her cynicism. It tugged on Ellie's heart.

"You know what Daisy? Your father is very lucky to have you as his daughter. You take such good care of him," she said warmly. She smiled at the teenager, thinking of her own boy and how much more this girl had had to mature due to her father's undoubtedly stubborn attitude toward his heart condition. Daisy's face brightened up.

"Thanks, Ellie," she murmured, blushing. Ellie wondered if anyone had ever praised her for what she was doing.

"You're a good daughter. I hope he knows that," Ellie added gravely.

"He does," she admitted with a loving smile.

"Good. If he ever forgets, come find me and I'll set his head straight." They both grinned when the door fell shut behind her.

* * *

Daisy's grin faded as soon as Ellie was out of sight.

' _If he ever forgets'_ – Ellie had said. The innocent remark left Daisy shaken. Ellie had unknowingly touched upon something that Daisy preferred not to be reminded of. She stared at the door for a long time after it had closed. Silent tears were running down her cheeks. Eventually, she passed her hands over her face, a gesture she'd unconsciously picked up from spending too much time with her father.

She turned around and went back to the living room. He had rolled over, one arm and leg dangling down the sofa. His mouth was slightly open with his heavy breaths. It hadn't escaped her attention that in recent weeks his breathing never seemed to be easy, not even when he was asleep. He looked cramped on that old piece of furniture he'd been lying on too often lately.

Daisy chewed on her lip. She shouldn't disturb him, but he wouldn't rest if she left him there. Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder. It was risky to wake him up, but what else was she going to do.

"Dad," she whispered in his ear. He stirred and opened his drowsy eyes. His wince gave away what he wanted to hide from her.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't wake you up, but you really shouldn't stay down here. Let me take you to bed," Daisy suggested, holding out her hand to him.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Did Miller leave?" If she didn't know better, she'd say he sounded disappointed.

Daisy tilted her head and searched his tired face. He was exhausted, a good opportunity for Daisy to probe him. His barriers would be down.

"She did. She seems nice," Daisy said as innocently as she could.

"Yup. She sure is. Talks a bit much. Likes fish and chips, but is willing to share them. Called me a knob several times. She's right I guess. Wants me to solve a child murder case for her. Might be a decent detective though. She figured out I hate salad," he babbled without giving it much thought just like Daisy had hoped he would. She felt only slightly guilty about taking advantage of his addled state of mind.

He suddenly stopped. "Daisy, did you do that on purpose?" he asked, frowning at her.

She felt her cheeks heat up. "No," she piped, batting her eyes.

He huffed. "Right." Then with a grin he added, "Liar."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Never, Dad."

He threw a pillow at her that she ducked gracefully.

"You know, I like her. She _cares_ ," Daisy said thoughtfully. Not like certain other people.

"Daisy, don't start, please," he sighed as if he could read her mind. A sheepish expression flicked over his face. "Did you call your mother?" Daisy hated his undertone. She couldn't help but think he sounded almost afraid that she had.

"No," came her curt reply. He nodded, unable to hide the relief.

Daisy's heart ached. There was a reason why she had told Ellie not to get in touch with her mother. It would have only resulted in more anger and hurt for everyone involved. It was better to keep her out of it.

He brushed his hand over the spot on his forehead where a bruise was forming and flinched in pain. "She'll find out soon enough when she sees this," he grumbled.

Daisy shrugged. There was no way to hide it. "We'll deal with it then. Let's get you to bed, Dad." She helped him up, pushed him out of the room and up the stairs. She made sure he wouldn't sleep in his clothes again and tucked him in like a child.

"Sleep well, Dad," she whispered, turning off the light. He was already snoring. "Let your night be quiet and let your worries drift away," she added quietly as she did every evening when she was sure he couldn't hear her. One day, she hoped her wish would come true and he'd be able to rest peacefully again. When his muffled scream woke her up in the wee hours of the morning, she knew it hadn't been that night. But maybe tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4 - Save Her

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. It's really a lot of fun to see how many of you are intrigued by this story idea. A brief warning for those of you who are not familiar with my writing... I do have a melodramatic streak in me...

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – Save Her**

Ellie was running late again. Joe had called her five times this morning. First because he couldn't find Tom's soccer jersey. Ellie sighed. Joe never did the washing. The next call was because Fred had wet the bed. Ellie huffed. Joe didn't know where the clean sheets were. Then he rang because there were no corn flakes in the house. Ellie groaned. Joe hadn't done the shopping. Again. When her mobile went off the fourth time, it was due to Fred throwing a tantrum because they couldn't find Teddy. Ellie growled. Joe hadn't picked up after the toddler. The last call rang in her ears because Joe and Tom were shouting at each other about Tom's football camp. Ellie banged her head against the wall. Joe had forgotten to sign the paper.

When she finally got to the seminar, Ellie couldn't believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Hardy was there, in all his glorious grumpiness. She hid a smile when he shot her a daggered stare from his corner, tapping his watch. He looked reasonably well, considering what had happened the night before. The purple bruise was hidden underneath his unruly fringe and the color of his gaunt face wasn't as sickly.

Today, he was supposed to share the Sandbrook story. She was curious to hear it from his mouth and not only through hearsay. Over the last year, the facts of the case had grown into this cloak and dagger tale, together with Hardy's reputation as a hero.

He was perched on a table in front of his audience, gripping the edge tightly. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, but focused his glassy gaze on the wall behind them. His Scottish lilt carried his baritone across the room.

"We received the call about the two missing girls on a weekend. Pippa Gillespie's body was found three days later in the river. Cause of death could never be determined for certain, but most likely it was suffocation before the body was deposited in the river." Hardy's voice was monotone. A hand in the audience went up and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Sir, is it true that you pulled the body out yourself?" a young man asked enthusiastically. Ellie found his tone a bit morbid, but she'd heard that rumor as well.

Hardy paled - if that was even possible - and his knuckles turned white. All attention was on him and you could have heard a pin drop in the room.

"I don't see how that question is in any way relevant to teaching you lot how to solve a double homicide," Hardy growled.

"Oh, I think it is very relevant, sir," the DS who had asked replied.

"Why?" Hardy pressed through clenched teeth. His jaw twitched.

"Because it illustrates your commitment to the case. It also illuminates possible emotional ties you might have had, which could have been helpful to or hindering the investigation."

Ellie had to give it to the guy, he had a point. She leaned forward in expectation of Hardy's answer. Others did the same.

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved his glasses up his forehead. He took in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Keeping them closed, he spoke quietly, Scottish accent stronger.

"We were searching the river banks. I had gone the opposite direction of my team. It was raining when I spotted her body in the water. I didn't think about it and went in. I should have waited, but I guess I…" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Ellie wondered if he'd thought he could save the dead girl.

"Sir, is it true that you almost drowned?" another question floated through the room. Ellie could hear the poorly hidden awe and lust for sensationalism in it. It was hard to stomach when the man in front of her was clearly shaken to the core by the memory of that day. She was appalled that no one else seemed to notice and she felt the urge to tell them to shut up.

Hardy opened his eyes. They were dark and burning. A shudder ran through Ellie when Hardy answered with a broken voice, " Aye."

There was dead silence, until the other instructor cleared his throat and announced it was time for the coffee break. Hardy fled the room before anyone else moved.

* * *

Hardy left the building as fast as he could. There was a small park across the street that he used as his hide out when things got to be too much. Overtime, Mike, the other instructor, had learned when he needed a break. Hardy had hoped that with the repetitions of the seminar the questions about the river would vanish as more people knew the truth and didn't need to get it out of him. One would think it should get easier to talk about it, but it didn't. In fact, it was harder and harder for him to hold it together. His therapist had said it was because he didn't get a chance to let things quiet down and that he was forced to re-live the events every few weeks. To that, Hardy replied, that he went to the river every night anyway, so what difference would talking about it make. His therapist pointed out that speaking in public and having nightmares were two very different things. Hardy hated to admit it, but he had been right.

He plopped down on his bench, taking in a few calming breaths. His trembling hands found their way under his thighs and he rocked back and forth until he had finally settled down. Someone sat next to him. He didn't need to look up to know who it was, he'd already caught the hideous orange from the corner of his eye.

"You all right?" Miller questioned quietly.

"'M fine," he muttered. He didn't feel like company, but he was sure she wouldn't leave him alone, even if he told her to sod off.

"That's what you said last night and then you passed out in front of me," she stated bluntly.

"'M sorry." He felt awful about the events of the prior evening.

She snorted. "Ha, that's the other thing you keep saying. No need to apologize for being ill."

He lifted his head and found her eyes. "That's not what I'm sorry about. I'm sorry for being irresponsible and negligent about taking care of myself and dragging others into my mess."

Miller squinted at him and searched his face. "That sounds like a load of horseshit, if you ask me. Who tells you that? It didn't sound like to me that you were irresponsible. Didn't your daughter mention something about getting clearance to do the seminar and you said you took your medications. Not your fault that I had to come along and upset you. I am the one who is sorry for that matter."

Hardy's mouth gaped open a bit. He stared at Miller, contemplating her words.

"My wife always says that to me. She thinks I'm being reckless," he blurted out. He was immediately embarrassed, feeling he'd overshared. His face heated up.

Miller's expression hardened ever so slightly. "She does?" There was a surprising amount of judgment in her voice and Hardy had the distinct impression that it wasn't positive. Hardy nodded and bit down on his lip. Her reaction made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want to think about the why.

They sat quietly on the bench for a while until Miller finally spoke.

"Did you think you could save her?" Her voice was soft, echoing with a sentiment that Hardy couldn't quite place.

"Aye." He closed his eyes and Pippa's bloated face greeted him. "I went in deeper than I thought and the current pulled me under. But that wasn't even it." He hesitated.

"Your heart condition?" Miller prompted.

Hardy shot her a quick glance. _Bollocks._ Daisy must have told her about his disease while he had been lying unconscious on his kitchen floor. Yet again, deep embarrassment about his weakness threatened to overwhelm him. On the other hand, Miller'd already seen him at his worst, he might as well share the story with her. There were only a few people he'd told before.

"Aye. My heart gave out on me and I was sure I was going to die. Somehow I found ground to stand on and when I got my head above water, she was right there. Her body bumped into me, her disfigured face an inch away from mine. I don't know how I made it out of there, carrying her with me. I can still feel her weight pulling on my arms and the water dripping down on me." His voice broke with his choked up tears.

"That's horrific," Miller mumbled, sniffling. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this. And now they make you live through it over and over again in that stupid seminar. Whose bloody idea was that?" Miller was full of indignation.

Hardy's lips curled up to a wry smile. "My Chief. She feels strongly about it. She says that if I can't put my talent to work then I should at least teach others and share my brilliance. Her words, not mine."

Miller lifted an eyebrow. "You repeated them though, you smug bastard."

Hardy's smile turned into a grin. "Isn't that what you came for? My brilliance?"

She whacked him on the arm. "Ach, you're unbelievable."

Hardy rubbed the spot and shrugged. "As I said before, you don't have to follow me around."

"I'm not following you around. I'm not one of your groupies. Just wanted to make sure that you didn't bash your head in while passing out in the park," Miller retorted.

Hardy suddenly became serious. "I am sorry about last night, no matter what you may think of me apologizing. I should have told you I wasn't feeling well. It must have been scary and awkward. And you had to deal with Daisy who can be a bit harsh when she sees me being ill."

"She wasn't harsh at all, she was lovely. She even fed me supper. You do know how lucky you are to have her, right?" Miller asked, scrutinizing him.

"Aye. I do. I don't think I would have made it through the last year without her," he stated sincerely.

"Have you told her that?" Miller wanted to know.

Hardy's lips pulled into a gorgeous smile. "Aye. That and that I love her."

Miller tilted her head and smiled back, content with the answer. "Good. Because I think she needs it."

"I know. She's gotten so much older this past year," Hardy sighed, passing his hand over his face. "I hate being a burden."

"Did your wife tell you that as well?" Miller questioned, poorly hidden distaste lacing her words.

Hardy looked at her in surprise. Tess never had, but that didn't mean she hadn't made him feel that way. "She's not like that," he defended her meekly.

"Sure," Miller said, doubt written all over her face. "It's none of my business, but your daughter didn't want me to call her, when you were lying unconscious on your kitchen floor. Thought you should know."

"We've had some issues," Hardy revealed reluctantly. He had no idea what made him say it. He only met this woman yesterday and she already got more out of him than most of his friends. "God, I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this. 'M sorry," he added with a sheepish glance at her.

Miller laughed. "And there we go again."

Hardy was puzzled at first, but then realized what she referred to. The corner of his mouth pulled up and he shrugged. "We should go back. My groupies are waiting for me," he joked and Miller rewarded him with a grin.

Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his feet, using his thighs as a crutch. His body felt older today than it had yesterday.

"You all right?" she asked, a tiny tease in her voice.

He smirked. "'M fine."

He already expected the whack on his arm.

"Knob," she grumbled and then giggled like a schoolgirl.

Maybe this week wasn't going to be as long as he had thought after all.

* * *

By lunch time, Hardy had gone over how to narrow down on suspects if there wasn't any apparent motive for the murder. He'd talked about how he found that getting a sense for who the victim had been and how they had fit into their environment was key to uncovering potential suspects. Yet again, he emphasized never to trust anyone or exclude anyone until one had solid proof.

Listening to Hardy's Scottish lilt lulled Ellie almost to sleep. Her thoughts drifted lazily. She had believed she'd known everything about Danny Latimer and she had been so wrong. A month into the investigation, she was no closer to a motive or a subject than when she had started. She shook her head and forced herself to return to the present.

People left in small groups, happily chatting away. Most of them shot Hardy an admiring glance as they passed by. Hardy didn't seem to notice, sitting huddled over his phone on a chair in the corner.

Ellie watched him for a bit to see if he'd move. He was staring at the screen, lost in his thoughts.

"Hiya, wanna go for lunch? I'll buy you salad," she finally interrupted his brooding.

His head snapped up and Ellie noted the moisture in his eyes.

"What's going on Hardy?" Ellie asked, frowning.

He shook his head and quickly wiped his face down. "It's nothing." He stood and pocketed the phone. His face was stoic and he didn't speak a word until they ordered their food in the same coffee shop they'd been at the day before.

He fell heavily on his chair and picked at his salad with much less vigor than she would've expected.

"Are you going to be like this for the rest of the day? You look like you've seen a ghost." It was a feeble attempt at luring him out of his reclusive frame of mind which was met with a much more dramatic reaction than she could have hoped for.

He turned bright red, suddenly dry heaved, cupped his mouth and ran off to the bathroom. Ellie stared after him and wondered what she'd said now. When he came back, his color was ashen and his fingers trembled. Ellie waited patiently for an explanation.

"Pippa's mother was found dead in her house. Sleeping pills," he stated tonelessly and shoved his plate away.

"Oh. That's…," Ellie trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

"She found out that her husband's application to the Criminal Case Review Commission went through. They referred it to the Court of Appeal," he added, his voice quivering. Ellie's eyes widened and now it was her who covered her mouth. She knew that Ricky Gillespie had beaten up Hardy when he attempted arresting him.

"And it's all because of _me_ ," he spat and snorted in disgust. "The grounds for the application are that I supposedly arrested Ricky Gillespie unlawfully. His legal team figured out that I was placed on medical leave that very day. It gets better though. Allegedly I used undue force." He sucked in some air and expelled it harshly. "He beat me senseless and sent me into cardiac arrest, but _I_ was the one who used undue force?" He was so bitter that it pained Ellie.

He finally lifted his gaze and looked her in the eye. His jaw twitched and his breathing was labored. "But the worst part is, they're _exhuming_ Pippa and Lisa. It's been a fucking year. They're dragging those poor girls out of their resting places to – "

Again, he started retching and stumbled off to the bathroom. When he didn't come back after a few minutes, Ellie got worried. She followed him and knocked at the door.

"Hardy?"

There was a groan. At least he was conscious.

"Hardy, you all right?" she asked, expecting his standard response.

The door opened and Hardy slumped against the wooden frame. "No," he croaked. "Need the…" He faltered and slid down to the floor. His eyes fell shut.

"Need the AED," he wheezed, clutching his chest. Horrified, Ellie stared frozen to the spot until her police training kicked in. She ordered a bystander to call 999, got another person to run to the counter and get the AED while she helped Hardy to lie on the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt and felt for his pulse. His breathing was shallow and besides a fluttering under her fingers on his neck, she couldn't feel a heartbeat.

She was about to start chest compressions when the lad with the AED arrived. She desperately tried to remember how to use it. Together with another woman they figured it out, slapped the stickers on Hardy's chest and hit the button of the machine. It advised them to stand back and delivered a shock. Hardy's body convulsed. The AED ordered to start chest compressions and Ellie promptly obeyed. After what she knew was two minutes but seemed like an eternity, the machine ordered them to stand by and faithfully delivered another shock. Again Hardy spasmed. This time the effort was followed by a steady beeping noise that Ellie recognized as Hardy's returned heartbeat. She felt for his pulse and cried when she found it thudding under her trembling fingers.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Hardy had regained consciousness. They greeted him by name and made a joke about frequent flyer miles. Hardy rolled his eyes. He protested vehemently when they scooped him up. He was too weak to escape though, and they ended up whisking him away while he continued to curse at them for taking him against his will. They seemed used to it.

They wheeled him past Ellie and he snatched her hand. His exhausted eyes found hers.

"'M sorry," he breathed while she echoed his words at the same time. A smile ghosted over his lips when they took him to the ambulance.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to my darling editor/beta HAZELMIST! This was my favorite comment this time around: "HE'S ALIVE THANKS TO BAMF ELLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

And before Sgt_Pepperony can even say anything... yup, this time the paramedics got a hold of him. He's got a standing subscription to their services ;-)

On a different note, I hope you enjoy/will enjoy the little twists and spins I'm giving the story. We're just getting started. I'm having a blast, that's for sure. Let me know what you think. Either way! Next chapter will follow soon.

ADD ON to this note:  
As it has come up now several times... about the pacemaker... it will all be revealed in the next couple of chapters. I'm sorry for confusing people, I guess it can happen when you don't publish a story bit by bit. Clearly our favorite detective's heart is still ailing and needs help. I don't want to say too much as I don't want to spoil the story but I will do my best to get the next chapter up asap. Hopefully you can bear with me. Thanks for being patient!


	5. Chapter 5 - Undue Force

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for being so patient. I hope this chapter will finally explain some of the questions you might have. This is a chapter I'm very excited about, but also extremely nervous over the reactions it might get. I hope for kindness. Just as brief reminder – Emily Abbott is Alec's long-time cardiologist and Ed Baxter is Alec's boss and friend.

I would like to put a warning as this chapter contains some description of violence. I don't quite believe in trigger warnings as I feel it spoils the story, but I want to be respectful of the community of readers and writers. I have some more notes at the end...

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Undue Force**

"Alec, I can't let you go this time," Emily Abbott stated firmly, her eyes focused on Hardy's ECG strip.

Hardy sat up on the stretcher and ignored the pain in his chest. "I'm not staying," he growled. "I really don't see why I have to."

Emily looked up. She wasn't quick enough to hide the sadness in her eyes. "I know you can't. But that's why you have to _listen_ to me. You trust me and my judgement, right?"

He held her gaze. Defiance was brewing inside. He wanted to be good for her, but everything in him screamed that he was all right and didn't need to stay. He felt fine. At least for his sorry standards.

"Yeah, just like you trust mine," he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Alec, please. Don't be like that. I'm trying to work with you here. You haven't had an attack as serious as this in a long time and it _worries_ me. I'd like to keep you overnight, to see why all of a sudden this has happened," she reasoned with him.

"Ricky Gillespie application to the Criminal Case Review Commission went through. The case has been referred to the Court of Appeal," he told her meekly, falling back on the stretcher.

Her eyes widened. "Oh. I see." She ripped off the paper strip forcefully. Anger flicked over her face. "He's not... free, is he?" she added with a slight tremble to her voice.

Hardy snorted. "No. Not yet."

The silence was measured out by the irregular beeping of Hardy's monitor. He hated that noise so much. It was a constant reminder that he wasn't fine, despite the way he felt.

"Can I go home? Please? I want to be with my family. Tess can pick me up and Daisy can watch –"

"You can't place all that responsibility on your daughter, Alec. She's only fourteen. We've talked about that," she interjected roughly. She had told him many times he couldn't burden his child with his problems.

"Emily, you know I don't want to, but who else is there?" he murmured. His eyes were trained on a stain on the thin sheets and he fidgeted with the pulse probe on his finger.

"Oh, Alec," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could do more. I had hoped we could think about fixing –"

"Don't," he stopped her. "Let's not talk about it now. It clearly isn't the right time," he added, defeat ringing in his voice. He sat up again and began to pluck the ECG stickers off his chest.

Emily closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Fine. I'll get the papers then. I want to see you in my office tomorrow though. Promise?"

"Promise. I'll come after the seminar," he agreed.

"What? No. You can't go to work tomorrow. Not after this," she chided him.

"Why not? I feel fine. All I do there is sit around and talk," he argued defiantly.

Emily glared at him and shook her head. "I give up. There is only so much stubbornness I can fight. You better be at my office by the end of the day or I'll call Ed and tell him to drag you there. Do you hear me?" she threatened him.

Hardy grinned. Ed Baxter was usually her last resort when she thought he wouldn't listen any other way.

"No need to do that. I'll be there," he reassured her sincerely.

She squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "All right. Make sure to rest tonight, eat something and take your medications. And don't overdo it tomorrow."

Hardy shot her a sheepish glance. He wondered if having lunch with Miller to discuss her child murder case qualified as overdoing it.

"Alec? What's going on in your head? I know that look, it means you're up to something." Emily eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing," he mumbled. But then he grinned and said, "I'm tutoring someone."

Emily squinted at him and tilted her head. A small smile played around her lips. "Hm. I see."

She patted him on the arm and said, "I'll see you tomorrow then. Have fun _tutoring_."

He rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd have to answer some questions the next day. Surprisingly, he didn't mind.

* * *

Hardy had already signed himself out after the heated debate with Emily when Tess walked into A&E. A groan escaped his throat. It didn't take fifteen years of marriage to recognize that she was fuming.

"Bloody hell, Alec, what are you doing? I can't even leave you alone for five minutes without you landing yourself in hospital," she hissed at him.

"'M fine, Tess. I'm about to leave," he sighed tiredly. "Can you take me home, please?"

She looked him up and down and ended up resting her eyes on his face. She stepped closer, brushing her fingers over the bump on his forehead. He flinched and turned his face away.

"Did this happen today?" she inquired with a softer tone, cupping his cheek and turning his head back toward her.

"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I passed out in the kitchen last night." He had long since given up lying to her.

"Oh, Alec," she breathed. She took his hand and led him out of A&E like she had done so many times this past year. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, more than he wanted to, but he was still quite unsteady on his feet.

She had to help him into the car. He closed his eyes and he knew she expected him to fall asleep like he always did. He couldn't today. Pippa's ghost didn't let him.

"The CCRC referred Ricky Gillespie's case to the Court of Appeal," he dropped the bombshell.

"What?" She almost hit the car in front of her.

"Supposedly I arrested him unlawfully and used undue force," he quavered.

"He fucking beat you to pulp and nearly killed you, and he has the guts to say _you_ used undue force?" she exploded.

Hardy covered his eyes with his palm, breathing hard. "I did break his nose," he muttered.

"Yeah, and he broke your skull, three ribs, your arm, gave you a brain injury, popped your spleen, and ripped the pacemaker out of your heart," she spat. "I still don't understand why you never pressed charges."

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I was in a coma for a month. I don't remember it, but I'm sure you do," he replied with way too much sarcasm. "Besides he claimed it was self-defense. CPS dropped the charges."

"Self-defense? Bloody hell, Alec! You just had the pacemaker surgery not even two weeks before and barely could make it through a day without the bloody thing going off. Why didn't you tell me they dropped it? I always thought you didn't go after him. Who was the idiotic prosecutor who would go for that?"

"Philippe Barnstein," he said, naming one of the best CPS barristers in the county.

"Oh," Tess stated meekly.

"Yup," he said with the same tone. "MacMillan tried everything to get them to prosecute, but they refused. Said that it was more important to get him for murder than for assaulting me."

Hardy expelled some air through his nose.

"They made a bloody _deal_ with Ricky – his legal team wouldn't press charges for his injuries and the implied police brutality in exchange for dropping the grievous bodily harm charge against him. I was in a coma and they were so damn worried about the mess that Ricky's arrest had caused that they listened to his version of events because I couldn't contradict it," he revealed, his anger rising. "They didn't give a fucking shit about me and now it's coming around to bite us all in the arse," he added furiously.

There was a tugging in his chest and Hardy grunted in exasperation. He fumbled for his pills that he wouldn't need if his heart hadn't been injured so badly that day. He wouldn't need them because he'd still have the god damn pacemaker and because he wouldn't have a reason to get upset to begin with.

He gagged them down and continued, with a dead voice, all anger gone. "Cate took her life last night after she found out."

"No," Tess whispered hoarsely. She had been close to Pippa's mother and Hardy knew how hard a blow this must be for his wife. She pulled the car over and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"I'm so sorry, love. Come here." Hardy leaned over and tugged her into a hug. His hands rubbed circles on her back and he kissed her hair. It didn't last long. She wiggled out of his embrace quickly like she always did nowadays. She had regained her composure and was about to restart the engine, when he delivered the final news.

"They are exhuming the bodies," he breathed. She turned and stared at him incredulously.

"But it's been over a year," she exclaimed. He looked at her and shook his head, mirroring her disbelief. He retched again at the thought, like he had earlier in the coffee shop, but he was able to control it. Tess's features softened and there was a kind look in her eyes. She leaned over and brushed his fringe out of his face.

"Let's get you home, Alec. You look like shit and you shouldn't strain yourself like this." He nodded, still covering his mouth with his hand.

They rode in silence and eventually Hardy drifted off to his familiar nightmare. He was soaked in sweat when he woke coughing and sputtering, struggling for air. It took him awhile to get his bearings. He was in the car with a blanket draped over him. The sun was hanging low in the sky, bathing him in its warm rays through the window. He must have slept there for quite some time.

Stiffly, he folded his long legs out the door and slowly stood up. He was dizzy, but made it to the entrance of his home. His hands were shaking too much to get the key into the lock. Leaning against the wall, he rang the bell. Daisy opened the door promptly and threw herself into his arms. He was glad he was supported by the wall. He wrapped his arms around her. She was in tears.

"Darlin', 'm fine. Please don't cry. Hm?" He kissed her head and she wiped at the snot on her face with the back of her hand.

"Get inside, Dad," she growled, hiding her fear behind sternness. "You need to rest."

"I just slept for hours in the car," he protested while she shoved him towards the living room.

"Nonsense." She pushed him onto the sofa, helped him out of his coat and shoes, and disappeared into the kitchen. He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was a text message from Ellie Miller.

 **Hope you're okay. Let me know if you need anything**.

He smiled and typed a reply.

 **I'm fine**.

It took a few moments for the answer to come through.

 **Seriously? I have to do CPR on you and all you say is I'm fine?**

It was followed by: **Wanker**

His smile grew wider.

 **Thanks for saving my sorry arse. I'll see you tomorrow.**

Her reply came fast: **What? You're kidding. Aren't you in hospital?**

He rolled his eyes. The woman had no idea.

 **Nope. I escaped. I'm home.**

Again another quick response: **Unbelievable!**

And then: **Oops. Gotta go. Your sidekick Mike gave me the evil eye and told me to put the phone away. Glad you're feeling better. See you tomorrow.**

Hardy put the phone down, grinning from ear to ear.

"You look better Dad. What's so amusing?" Daisy was curious. She put down a mug with steaming tea and a sandwich. Then she plopped down on the armchair next to him.

"Ellie Miller," he replied, curled his fingers around the cup and blew the steam away. He peeked over the rim of the mug at his daughter.

"Ah," was all that Daisy said, smiling and sipping her own tea.

To his surprise, Hardy was looking forward to going back to the seminar the next day.

* * *

Ellie was lying on her hotel bed and staring at a virtual case file on her laptop. It wasn't Danny's and it wasn't the teaching file of the Sandbrook case. It wasn't any less disturbing than those cases though.

She had to pull some favors to get a hold of it. Truth be told, she had extorted a mate from the academy. She felt a bit ashamed, but curiosity had won.

' _Alec Gavin Hardy - case ID 318749'_ was faintly printed as a watermark across the laptop screen. The transparent letters couldn't hide the gruesome pictures of said Alec Gavin Hardy's face and body. The photographs had been taken while he was in a coma in the ICU. His face was swollen so badly that she wouldn't have recognized him. It was bruised and purple. His head was shaved and a red surgical scar trailed over his scalp, forming a large crescent. It must have been from the operation to evacuate the brain bleed he'd sustained.

Ellie swallowed. Hardy had said Ricky Gillespie had beaten him senseless which Ellie had assumed was a figure of speech. Turned out that he had been quite literal about it. Gillespie had smashed Hardy's head onto a stone at the riverbank. Several times from what forensics presumed, but it was hard to tell for sure. Hardy had no recollection when he woke up from his coma twenty-seven days later. It was a miracle he did at all.

From what the detectives could reconstruct, Hardy had followed his team to the river where they had been searching for evidence related to the case. It was unclear from the case file what had happened next. Hardy had gotten separated from the SOCO team – he couldn't remember why he'd walked off – but he had ended up by himself, running after Gillespie along the river to arrest him for Lisa Newbery's murder. Hardy recalled that by the time he had caught him, his heart had been giving him trouble, but he had been holding up, thanks to the pacemaker he'd had implanted two weeks prior. Gillespie had resisted the arrest and a fight had ensued. Hardy had broken Gillespie's nose. It was a pathetic injury compared to what Gillespie had done to him.

Ellie scrolled down to the next set of images. Hardy's torso was as disfigured as his face. There was a large dressing running down his sternum. He had undergone emergency open heart surgery to remove the dislodged pacemaker wires and to stop the bleeding inside his chest. His skin was bruised and covered with angry red burn marks from the defibrillator. Several large tubes and wires were sticking out of his front and side. The list of injuries read like a medical textbook - cardiac contusion, pericardial tamponade, three rib fractures, a hemothorax, lung contusion and forceful dislodgement of the life-saving pacemaker wires.

When they had found Hardy, Gillespie was holding down his left arm behind his limp body. The arm was broken and the violent extension and pulling on the limb had led to the pacemaker wires being ripped out of Hardy's heart. There were x-rays and a photograph of Hardy's arm with pins sticking out. They couldn't fix the bones only pin them down to hold them in place because Hardy had been too unstable for orthopedic surgery.

The last series of pictures were images from Hardy's abdomen and flank. The skin was scraped open and another surgical scar ran through more bruised areas. The file stated that the officer who arrived first at the scene had observed Gillespie violently kicking Hardy which could have led to the ruptured spleen, but it was also a possibility that it could have been pierced by one of the broken ribs. Hardy had almost bled to death during the operation to take out the injured organ.

Ellie snapped the laptop screen shut. She felt nauseated by what she had seen. But what was even more sickening, was the fact that Gillespie was never charged for any of it. The case file didn't disclose why and there was a suspicious lack of any statements Gillespie might have made. It bothered Ellie and she couldn't imagine a good reason for not prosecuting Gillespie for it. She understood now why Hardy was so upset by the idea that he was being accused of using undue force. It was absurd.

The hotel phone rang and startled her out of her morbid thoughts.

"Ms. Miller?" the concierge asked politely.

"Yup, speaking," she answered, wondering why they would call her.

"There is a visitor here who would like to talk to you. He says his name is Ed Baxter."

Ellie had no idea who that was, although the name seemed vaguely familiar.

"I don't know anyone by that name. Is it a mistake?" Ellie replied. She heard muffled voices on the other end. Then the concierge spoke again.

"He says it's important. He has shown me a badge identifying him as the Assistant Chief Constable of the South Mercia Police Constabulary."

Ellie bit her lip. She had a bad feeling about this. "What does he want?" she inquired suspiciously.

More muffled conversation filtered through.

"He says it's in regards to a certain case file that you gained access to," the concierge replied, sounding more and more uncomfortable.

 _Shitshitshit_. She didn't think her looking into Hardy's case would get her into trouble this quickly. It was a sealed file, hence the need for extortion.

"Ma'am, he wants to talk to you. Can I put him on, please?" the concierge begged.

"Oh, for God's sake, fine," Ellie growled into the phone.

"DI Miller?" an authoritative voice asked.

"Yes," she answered reluctantly.

"If you don't get your sorry arse down here in five minutes and explain to me why you're snooping around in my DCI's sealed case file, I'll have a word with your chief about what you're doing here in Sandbrook when you are supposed to be somewhere completely different. Have I made myself clear?" Baxter's threat was delivered calmly and with precision.

Ellie sighed. She'd been busted, on two counts. "Yes, sir. I'll be right down."

"Good decision. I'm wearing a grey suit with a purple tie, no glasses, light brown hair. The concierge can point you in my direction if he doesn't faint of fear before then," Baxter stated curtly and hung up before Ellie could confirm.

Ellie groaned. She now remembered how she knew the name. Baxter was Hardy's CS at the time and had pulled Gillespie off of Hardy. He was also the person who three people had to pry off Gillespie while he was holding a gun to Gillespie's head, threatening to shoot him for killing his best friend. If that was any indication of the ACC's protective feelings for Hardy, Ellie was in deep shit.

* * *

 **A/N:** First, I want to apologize to all who feel this was too graphic. I had several people read it and they seemed okay enough with it. If you want to scream and yell at me, please feel free to do so. I understand.

Secondly, I fully expect some of you to feel a bit taken aback and accuse me of depicting Ricky as too much out of character. And I couldn't entirely fault you for it. I would like to make the following argument (and I don't simply want to say – hey, it's AU it doesn't matter, because I feel it does)...

Ricky murdered Lisa in a moment of rage and anger because she talked back at him. He completely lost control and bashed in a 19-year-old girls head. He then cold-bloodedly threatened Lee to accuse him of the murder and told his own daughter the lie. He drugged women to gain sexual pleasure. He taunted his wife with cheating with the neighbor. He beat up Lee (despite that maybe being justified as Lee did kill his daughter). He stalked Hardy, interrupted a family dinner and threatened and humiliated him in front of Hardy's daughter. He scared Daisy. He is NOT a nice man, grieving father or not. He is a violent man. And as such, confronted with being arrested for Lisa's murder and possibly being accused for indirectly being responsible for Pippa's death also, he might not take kindly to that. In a fight, he might well lose control again and Hardy was in no shape to defend himself. That's where I'm coming from. As I said I could understand if you don't agree. I hope you still would like to read on.

Thirdly, the issue of the dropped charge against Ricky. I'm sure someone out there who is versed in the legal system is just shaking their head right now and saying good bye to the story. That's fine. I get it. But considering that the prosecutors only had Ricky's side of the story to go by as Hardy was too sick to give a statement, and they really wanted to get him for Lisa's murder, I don't think it's out of the realm of possibilities that they struck a deal, sacrificing Hardy. I know that usually the police sticks very tight with their own – and Hardy's Chief tried – but maybe the CPS was worried about being accused of police brutality in such a high profile case. Think about the headlines – Father of murdered child arrested and beaten by police. Getting a confession and a guilty plea might have been worth it to them. I hope you can forgive me the movie-esque plot development here. I welcome any constructive comments in that regards. I've stuck my head a bit out of my comfort zone, so I hope you will be kind.


	6. Chapter 6 - Fault

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. There was a reason for the delay – I got legal counseling! Exciting! And with that I would like to give credit to LILY_DRAGON for her help in the overall story development and the legal advice. Thanks to her, the story is getting more and more fun (also there are a few tiny changes in Ch 4 and 5, but it's basically the same). As always, massive thanks to HAZELMIST for her relentless support. But now on with the tale – Ellie meets Ed...

TW - graphic description of violence. As I said before I don't believe in trigger warnings but I'm trying to play by the rules.

* * *

 **Chapter 6 - Fault**

Baxter settled in an armchair in the lobby. He was having a shit day and this wasn't making it any better. He didn't stand up when DI Ellie Miller approached him nor did he take her hand.

"Sit," he ordered the woman sternly. She complied and plopped into the seat opposite him. Her curls were sticking up in all directions and her face was flushed. Despite an aura of awkwardness, she didn't shy away from looking him straight in eye.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?" he opened the conversation.

When he had received the alert that someone had accessed Hardy's case file, he'd almost lost it. Especially on the day where that scum bag Ricky Gillespie decided to ruin a few more lives with his application to the Criminal Cases Review Commission. Baxter was convinced it must have been the same person who hacked into the Glasgow police force's database, but when he looked at the woman in front of him that seemed unlikely. He had been fooled before though, and as Hardy always said, don't trust.

"Erm… sorry?" Miller smiled insecurely.

"Seriously? You gain access to a sealed case file of a prominent member of my police force that you've arguably been stalking and all you say is _'sorry'_ ," Baxter hissed and leaned forward.

Miller's face turned bright red and she bit down on her lip. "'M not stalking Hardy," she mumbled, intently studying her feet.

"And what do you call secretly attending this workshop when you're supposed to be learning about arsonists in London, DI Miller? Mike Bailey also told me that you've been trying to chat Hardy up at the seminar whenever possible. And now you've invaded his privacy by obtaining said case file. Looks like stalking to me," Baxter argued. He was getting impatient. It was late, and all he wanted to do was swing by Hardy's house and make sure he was all right. The bloody idiot hadn't returned his calls. What else was new?

Miller's eyes snapped up, and he was met with a fiery gaze. "I'm _not_ stalking him. I want his advice about a case. That's why I came," she stated calmly.

Baxter huffed. Hardy had attracted a respectable number of people who thought they could seize the opportunity to let Hardy do their work for them. If she was one of them, Baxter knew how to handle her.

"That doesn't explain why you looked at his case file," Baxter threw back at her.

She squirmed in her chair and fidgeted with her sweater sleeves. If at all possible, her face turned a shade redder.

"I'm listening," Baxter prompted when she didn't say anything.

"Fine. I was being nosy. Hardy told me at lunch that Gillespie's case was referred to the Court of Appeal by the CCRC based on him using undue force. He was upset about it and complained how that wasn't fair, considering it was Gillespie who had beaten _him_ senseless," Miller confessed.

Baxter grunted and he was about to lay into her for violating Hardy's privacy when something registered with him. He squinted at the flustered woman in front of him.

"Did you say you had lunch with him?" Baxter asked in disbelief.

Miller nodded and gave him a quizzical look.

"He doesn't do lunch with random people. Have you two met before?" Baxter wanted to know. He hoped that would be the explanation and not an impulsive move on Hardy's part.

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth curling up. "Nope. Never met him before Monday." There was a spark in her brown eyes that challenged Baxter.

"And he told you about the CCRC referral? Why?" Baxter grew more and more suspicious. That was so unlike Hardy to confide in a stranger. Or at least it used to be. The idea was making Baxter uneasy.

"I dunno. He looked a bit worn out after having to talk about that bloody case, so I asked him to go to lunch with me. Whose stupid idea was that anyway to have him tell the story in that bloody seminar? Have you been to one?" she queried, staring him down.

"Trust me, it wasn't mine. And yes, I have. Did they ask him about the river and the girl?" Baxter sighed. He hated the fact that Hardy had to go through it over and over again. The nightmares were bad enough, but the seminar had its own impact.

"They sure did. I wanted to smack them." Miller seemed indignant and Baxter found himself beginning to like her.

"He was so rattled," she continued, shaking her head. "Thought he was gonna pass out in the park and bash his head in. I –"

"Wait. Why would you think that? And why were you in the park with him?" Baxter searched her face. This was getting more and more confusing.

Miller shot him a sheepish glance, accompanied by the most awkward smile he'd ever seen. "I sorta followed him to the park," she mumbled quickly.

"Ah, I knew it," Baxter exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. "You _did_ stalk him!"

"For God's sake, I was worried about the bloody idiot. He ran off and nearly passed out the day before when I only mentioned a child murder case. And then he fainted on me in his own kitchen before he could even offer me a drink, what was I sup –"

"Excuse me?" Baxter interrupted Miller with a sharp voice. "He fainted? When was that? And what were you doing in his kitchen?" Baxter was at the edge of his chair. What the hell was going on here? Even for Hardy's current state of mind that was unexpected.

"He invited me for supper at his house on Monday night and –"

Again, Baxter couldn't let her finish. "He invited you for supper? At his house? On the day you met him?" His incredulity was tangible.

She bit her lip. "Truth be told I invited myself. He had offered to talk about the case after the seminar and I used the opportunity to find company for supper. Don't quite like eating by myself."

Baxter's mouth gaped open. "And he went for it? Unbelievable." Baxter couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Hardy seemed so uncharacteristically friendly with this woman.

"He used me as a taxi though. Knob," she added after a huff.

Baxter grunted. "Ha, that's more like him."

"Is he always like that?" Miller wanted to know.

"Like what? A knob? Mostly," Baxter growled.

She grinned. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes. It dawned slowly on Baxter why Hardy might have found it hard to be his usual standoffish self with this seemingly unstoppable chipper woman.

"That too," she said, still grinning. But then her expression turned serious. "What I really meant was if he's always so vulnerable." There was no mockery in her voice, only sincere concern.

She looked at him with her wide brown eyes, waiting for an answer. Nobody had ever said anything like that about Hardy before, but it couldn't have been truer. Squinting his eyes into slits, he moved closer and scrutinized her.

"Who the hell _are_ you?" He demanded to know instead of answering her question, emphasizing every word.

Her mouth stretched into a big smile and her hand came out again. "DI Ellie Miller, Broadchurch, Dorset. According to people who know me, I fuss too much and I'm a wee bit nosy. Nice to meet you, Mr. Baxter. My friends call me Ellie."

Baxter's eyes flicked back and forth between her smiling face and her proffered hand. Eventually, he took it and introduced himself properly, "ACC Ed Baxter. According to Hardy, I'm a pain in the arse and also fuss too much. I guess we've got something in common then. My friends call me Ed. Hardy just grunts at me." He smiled at Ellie who giggled a bit and then pulled herself together.

"Oh, also, I saved the life of your friend-who-only-grunts-at-you today. Maybe that makes up for accessing his file." She smirked when he dropped his jaw to the floor.

* * *

Ellie was amused by Baxter's reaction. He clearly hadn't expected that. He took in a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair, and then fixed his steel blue-grey eyes on her.

"Please, do explain," he demanded, his voice and face speaking volumes about his resignation.

Ellie felt for him. She had a strong suspicion that Hardy had tried this man's patience more than once.

"We had lunch together. He was being all mopey, so I made a joke about him having seen a ghost. He ran off puking. When he came back he told me that Cate Gillespie had taken her life. Then he said that Ricky Gillespie's case has been referred to the Court of Appeal by the CCRC. He had to hurry to the toilet again, after he mentioned that they were exhuming the bodies," Ellie recounted the events from earlier that day.

Baxter's eyes grew wider and he clasped his fingers together, wringing his hands.

"Go on," he sighed exasperated.

"He didn't come back, so I followed him…," she trailed off and their eyes locked. Baxter opened his mouth, but Ellie beat him. "It isn't stalking if you're worried."

Baxter grunted and continued to stare at her.

"When he opened the door, he collapsed and said he needed the AED. By the time we got it, he was unconscious and I couldn't feel a pulse. The thing shocked him and then asked for chest compressions. So I did CPR on him and after another shock, his pulse came back. The paramedics took him to the hospital," Ellie finished her story.

Baxter's face was red and without a word he pulled out his phone and dialed a number on his speed dial. It rang a few times and went to voicemail.

"Alec, if you're not in hospital and that's the reason why you're not answering, then you better get yourself ready for a bollocking. I know all about what happened today. Call me. Now!" he barked into speaker. He hung up and without losing a beat he dialed another number. It was answered almost immediately.

"Emily? It's Ed… yeah, I just found out… No, he didn't… Did you see him at the hospital?... Oh good." Relief was playing over Baxter's face and he fell back into the chair.

Ellie watched Hardy's boss who seemed to have forgotten all about her. She moved, seizing the opportunity to escape. She couldn't have been more wrong about Baxter being distracted. As soon as she had shifted forward, he pierced her with a glare and held his hand up to hold her back. He was listening intently, shaking his head.

"You should've told me. I would have never allowed him to do the bloody seminar, if I knew you were this reluctant to clear him… No, of course he didn't mention it. You know how he is… No, Gillespie is not out of prison. Please, don't worry, nobody's going to go after him… besides me, if he doesn't call me back," Baxter added with a growl.

Ellie grinned. She had been right. Baxter was extremely protective of Hardy. Probably for a good reason from the glimpses of the conversation she could gather. He finished the call and turned his attention back to her.

"He's home. Thought you would want to know," Ellie said quietly.

"How the hell do you know?" Baxter snapped at her.

"'Cause he texted me," was her simple answer. Baxter's eyes widened again in disbelief.

"He's planning on going to work tomorrow," she added. She jumped when Baxter slapped his palm on the coffee table.

"God damn it, I'm going to kill him," he shouted.

"You might not have to," Ellie quipped before she could hold herself back. If he could have murdered her with his steely eyes, she'd be dead.

"Sorry," she muttered, pulling her mouth into an awkwardly apologetic grin.

He inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly. He seemed to have calmed down when he spoke.

"It's not funny. You've seen his file."

Ellie stayed silent, waiting if Baxter might start talking on his own. He didn't.

"Ed, what happened that day?" she asked softly.

He stared ahead, miles away. Eventually, he was ready to share.

"Without Hardy we would have never solved the case. He brought in all the leads right from the beginning. He was the one who had the initial hunch and the one to pick up on all the inconsistencies in the statements. He wanted to search the river and ultimately found Pippa. He almost died that day, saving a dead girl. He never said anything though. Signed himself out of the hospital." Baxter paused and closed his eyes briefly.

Ellie thought back to when she was sitting on the bench with Hardy that morning. His vivid description of Pippa's rescue still sent shivers down her spine. The DS at the seminar had no idea how relevant it really was that Hardy had done what he had done.

Baxter cleared his throat and continued, "Hardy ran the investigation and put all the pieces together. He convinced Claire Ripley to break Lee Ashworth's alibi. It was him who picked up on the missing car where we ended up finding the pendant."

Baxter stopped talking. His face scrunched up, caught up in what Ellie presumed were painful memories. She forced herself to listen quietly and let him tell the story at his own pace, despite her growing curiosity.

"He was gravely ill all along, but kept it a secret. From me, from his wife, from everyone. He was so obsessed with finishing the case that he was willing to risk his life." Baxter found her eyes. She saw the distress in them and it tugged on her heart.

"I found out that he was ill when I watched him having an attack while he interrogated Claire Ripley. It took me another week to figure out how badly off he really was. He didn't confide in me until he was forced to ask for time off to undergo a life-saving procedure. The pacemaker insertion was planned for the day we ended up searching the car. He barely survived the surgery, but was back at work two days later."

"And you let him?" Ellie exclaimed in disbelief. Baxter paled, cringing.

"He insisted and I wasn't strong enough to say no." Guilt was written all over his face.

Wearily, Baxter went on to tell his tale. "He was sure that Lee and Claire were lying, that there was more to it. It took him nearly two weeks to break them to spill the truth. Meanwhile, he was relentless. He hunkered down in his office with all the notes, pictures, and evidence logs – anything he could get his hands on. I have no idea how many times his heart threatened to give out and I'm sure that little box in his chest was working overtime. He collapsed in the Gillespie house. That was when Cate finally broke her husband's alibi and Hardy put everything together. He found the last pieces of evidence, cracked Claire's story and eventually got a full confession out of Ashworth."

Ellie was morbidly fascinated. She'd heard more than one version of the story. Some people claimed that Hardy had gone insane in his obsession with the case, others called him a hero. Nobody ever mentioned that he was deathly ill and should have never worked the case.

Baxter dropped his gaze, avoiding Ellie's scrutiny. "When he presented it all to me, barely able to stand up straight, I was in awe, but at the same time mortified. I had let it come to that and failed to protect him from risking his life. The warrant for Gillespie was out a couple of hours later, but he escaped arrest. Our team was at the river and Hardy stayed at the station. I had put him on medical leave the second he'd come to his final conclusion." Baxter's voice faltered. He hung his head, raking his fingers through his hair.

"And then what happened?" Ellie prompted, too engrossed to back off. The most commonly told tale was that Hardy had been with his team, but on a hunch left them behind to finish what he'd begun. No one ever mentioned he'd not been on active duty.

"Alec had found out about what was going on and made it to the river of his own accord. Bloody moron."

Baxter fell silent, breathing heavily. Ellie realized that Hardy wasn't the only one who was rattled by the memory of that day. Wondering if he'd gotten lost somewhere in the past, she feared he wouldn't finish his story. She was wrong. He looked up, eyes ablaze, and told her _everything_.

* * *

 _Fifteen months earlier..._

Baxter's team members poured out of the vans and cars they had come in. Claire Ripley had identified the location of Ricky Gillespie's flask with the Rohypnol that had allegedly poisoned Pippa and they needed to find it. The earlier they could get to it the better. He had decided to supervise the search while he had sent Hardy's wife to arrest Ricky Gillespie. Hardy himself was left behind, spewing foul language at Baxter that he needed to be there. Baxter had pulled rank and had placed him officially on leave, ending the discussion.

Baxter had barely set foot onto the grounds with the wilting blue bells when his phone buzzed. It was Tess.

"We lost him. He must have realized we were coming for him. All we found at the house was Cate. She's so drunk, she can't even say her own name." Her words tumbled out rapidly.

"Tess, for fuck's sake, how could he slip through?" Baxter snarled at her. It was maddening. Her husband had nearly killed himself over getting all the proof they needed, and she couldn't even get Gillespie arrested.

"I don't know, sir. I'm sorry," she apologized. There was genuine chagrin in her voice and Baxter sighed. "Fine. Get some search teams going and alert the uniformed division. And Cate needs medical attention." In an afterthought, he added, "Have her tested if Ricky drugged her. Maybe she's not only drunk if she's so out of it."

Tess acknowledged his orders and then hung up. Baxter closed his eyes, putting his anger aside. It wouldn't help him in the current situation. He needed to focus on the matters at hand. The SOCO team started combing the area, circling in on the spot that Claire had identified. Claire's description had been vague and the number of dug up heaps of earth next to the beech trees was rising. He briefly checked in with Tess to see if she'd already mobilized the search teams. He didn't trust her to execute the task properly. If Hardy hadn't been in such poor shape, he'd get him on it. Baxter stared into another hole, its emptiness was trying his patience. He'd forgotten how annoying field work could be. Why Hardy was so dead set on continuing this job eluded Baxter.

"DI Hardy!" DC Swenson's concerned voice rang in his ears. Baxter spun around and found Hardy climbing out of a police car. _Bollocks_ , he should have cuffed him to his desk. Baxter groaned at the sight of him. Hardy's pale face was drawn as he walked quickly over to Baxter.

"Alec, what the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay at the station," he hissed at Hardy as soon as he was close enough.

"Ricky got away! How the hell did that happen?" Hardy snarled with much less discretion than Baxter had displayed. Baxter clasped Hardy's left shoulder and turned him away from the nosy eyes and ears of their team. Hardy winced and cradled his left arm against his body.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Alec. I forgot about the surgery," Baxter mumbled and pulled his hand away.

"'S all right," Hardy pressed through his clenched jaw. He teetered to the side and Baxter caught him gently against his body. There was a feverish glimmer in his eyes and his fringe was sticking to his sweaty forehead. Baxter snagged Hardy's wrist and felt for his pulse. It was racing and his skin was hot.

"Jesus, Alec. You're burning up." Hardy shivered and pulled his hand away, confirming Baxter's suspicion.

"'M fine. 'S nothing," Hardy growled with chattering teeth.

"I'm taking you to the hospital right now. This is ridiculous. What if your wound got infected?" Baxter insisted. He berated himself that he hadn't picked up on it earlier. Hardy's face had been flushed and he had noted the shine in Hardy's eyes, but he had blamed it on the excitement of telling him his final conclusions. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Sir! We've got something," DC Swenson called out triumphantly. Turning, Baxter immediately walked toward her. The quicker they'd be done here, the earlier he could get Hardy to the hospital where he clearly belonged.

They had dug yet another hole next to an old beech tree. Broken blue bell stems were scattered around the grounds. It smelled of moist soil despite it being a hot and dry day. SOCO team members were carefully exposing an object. It was a silver hip flask. Baxter's lips curled up in a pleased smile. _Gotcha._

"Bag it and get it to forensics momentarily. They need to look for prints and traces of saliva or anything that could connect it to Pippa Gillespie," he stated the obvious.

Content, he turned back to where he'd left Hardy behind. The small clearing was empty. Baxter's stomach lurched. Hardy was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Baxter searched the surroundings with his eyes. The woods were shady, the occasional ray of sunlight breaking through the thick roof of leaves. As far as he could see, there was no sign of Hardy. How could he have escaped so quickly? Where would he have gone? And more importantly, why?

"Everyone listen up," he called out. People around him stilled and turned their attention to him. "Did anyone see where DI Hardy went?"

It was silent, save for the sound of singing birds and the water gushing in the distance. Baxter suddenly realized _where_ at the riverbank they were.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath.

"Thompson, you take two officers and go down south to look for him. He isn't well and might need immediate medical attention. Get an ambulance here. We need to find him. Now," he barked. "Jensen, you come with me. We're going up north along the river. Everyone else continue to secure the site and look for any further evidence you might find."

Dave Thompson and two uniformed officer jogged off the clearing.

"Sir, can I come with you?" Swenson asked insecurely. Baxter knew she liked Hardy and she was genuinely concerned. Maybe she needed to do something instead of waiting.

"Fine. Let's go then," he said and marched away, heading towards the spot where Hardy had risked his life to rescue a dead girl.

* * *

Baxter moved swiftly through the woods. PC Jensen wasn't the fittest man and he stumbled over the roots and uneven terrain as if he had never been outside before. Baxter cursed under his breath. He didn't care if Jensen fell behind. All he wanted was to get to Hardy. Swenson kept up. However, when Jensen tripped and fell face down into the mud, her kind heart won, and she stopped to help. Baxter continued on and picked up his pace.

He was nearly certain that Hardy would have wandered off to the place where everything had begun. It couldn't be much farther. The trees were thinning out and the noise of the river was getting louder.

There was something else though. He heard voices. One of them sounded angry. Worried, he sped up. The closer he got, the clearer the voices became. A man - the angry one - was yelling something repeatedly. The other voice was but a groaning, and by the time he got there, it had faded.

Baxter ran out from under the shadow of the trees. He was momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight that hit his face. Before he could even see what was going on, the shouting finally was clear enough to understand.

"You fucking bastard, I did nothing!" And then again, "You piece of shit, nothing, do you hear me?"

Baxter's stomach churned at the sight in front of him. Ricky Gillespie was kicking Hardy's limp body that was lying bent in an odd shape on the ground. Gillespie had twisted Hardy's left arm around and had yanked it behind Hardy's back. He dropped his full weight on Hardy's chest, kneeling down on the man that appeared lifeless. Blood pooled around Hardy's head which was resting next to a blood-smeared large rock.

"Ricky!" Baxter shouted in his most authoritative voice. Gillespie looked up, but didn't move away from Hardy. His nose was swollen and there was blood trickling out of his nostrils. "Get off of him!" Baxter called out while he cautiously moved closer.

Hardy's body was perfectly still. Too still. Baxter's anxiety rose. He wasn't close enough yet to see if Hardy was breathing. His hand slid under his jacket, feeling for his gun. He didn't usually carry it, but today it had felt like the right thing to do.

Gillespie was still kneeling on Hardy's chest. At least he had let go of the arm. It had fallen to the ground, and Baxter stared at it. It was the left arm, the arm Hardy had been cradling so protectively after only a light touch. The arm he was supposed to be _careful_ with because of the freshly implanted pacemaker. A cold shiver ran down Baxter's spine and his eyes wandered from the arm to Hardy's bloody face. It was bruised, but under the angry red and purple was a grey waxy color that reminded Baxter of too many visits in the morgue.

"Get off of him, Gillespie!" Baxter ordered again with an eerily calm voice. It cut through the silence, but not through Gillespie's enraged mind. He fixed his blue eyes on Baxter. He didn't move an inch. Instead, he turned back to Hardy and punched him in the side. Hardy didn't move.

Baxter lost it. This piece of human shit was killing his _friend_ in front of him, if he hadn't done so already. He had come close enough and lunged forward. Before Gillespie could even react, he had tackled the bulky man and dragged him off of Hardy.

They were rolling through the mud, clawing violently at each other, until they came to lie next Hardy's battered body. Baxter realized with horror that the damp soil under him was soaked in Hardy's blood. It made him retch. Gillespie used the opportunity to wiggle free, but Baxter snatched his leg and tripped him. Gillespie fell hard to the ground, scraping his face over one of the many rocks. He struggled to his feet and stumbled away.

Baxter was sure now that Hardy wasn't breathing and with that recognition all reason left him. He drew his weapon and fired it. The bullet hit Ricky's calf and made him topple over. Baxter didn't hesitate and swiftly grabbed him. They grappled with each other, both getting more and more bruised and scratched up, until Baxter gained the upper hand. He kneeled on him just like Ricky had on Hardy minutes ago and pulled his gun out again.

With a trembling hand, he pressed the cold opening of the barrel against Ricky's temple.

"You fucking killed him," he hissed. When Ricky didn't say anything, he shoved the metal deeper into Ricky's flesh. Ricky grimaced, groaning.

"You fucking killed him," Baxter repeated, louder this time, his voice shaking. Ricky grinned.

"He deserved it. Shouldn't have told me it was my fault," Ricky panted.

The reply turned Baxter's hot blood cold. He leaned in until his lips almost touched Ricky's hair.

"You fucking killed my _friend_ and now I'm going to kill you, you fucking piece of shit," he shouted into Ricky's ear. He'd never taken a life, but if there had ever been a moment he had wanted to, this was it. He was about to pull the trigger when several hands seized him and dragged him off of Gillespie. Someone wrenched the gun out of his hand. Gillespie's bloody face was drawn into a smug grin when two uniformed officers cuffed him.

"Sir? CS Baxter? Are you all right?" Dave Thompson asked, fear lacing his voice and clinging onto Baxter's gun.

"Hardy's barely breathing and I can't feel a pulse, only a flutter," Swenson announced. "Get the paramedics here, _now_ ," she bellowed.

Baxter watched her turn Hardy's limp body on his back and start to do chest compressions. Her ponytail bobbed up and down while she pounded on him. She counted under her breath and Baxter found himself doing the same. Jensen had joined her, providing rescue breaths when it was time. They were still doing it until after an eternity the paramedics arrived.

Baxter's legs had given out and he had sunk onto the blood soaked ground. He was shaking and paralyzed by what had transpired. All he could do was observe the desperate battle for his friend's life. They shoved a breathing tube down his throat and whipped out the defibrillator. Baxter lost count of how many times they shocked him, but eventually someone said, "I've got a pulse."

Baxter closed his eyes. Hardy was alive.

* * *

Ellie stared wide-eyed at Baxter. She had a hard time believing what he'd told her. When Baxter had closed with _"Hardy was alive,"_ he choked, cupping his mouth with his trembling hand.

The story had shaken Ellie. She had listened to Baxter's quiet recounting of the events with growing horror. It was one thing to read a file, but hearing it from someone who had been there and was so emotionally involved, was very different. They sat in silence until Baxter finally got his voice back.

"I will never know why he walked the other way because he doesn't remember. From what we can tell, he must have found Gillespie, and chased him along the riverbank until he caught him. It beats me how he could run him down, but he did." Baxter shuddered and swallowed hard. He lifted his head and looked Ellie straight in the eye. "I swear, Hardy wasn't breathing. I thought Ricky had killed him." He pleaded with her as if she could give him absolution.

"I put the gun to Gillespie's head and I would have shot him, if the others hadn't held me back." His voice broke and there were tears in his dark eyes. He covered his face with his hands, trying to regain composure.

"He was in a coma for twenty-seven days, another month in the ICU and another in the hospital. Then two months in rehab. Five months until he got to go home. I didn't let him return to work until after the trial had finished which was four months ago. Hardy never recovered enough to replace the pacemaker that he desperately needs to keep his heart in check," Baxter concluded the events of that fateful day.

Ellie didn't know what to say. It was horrifying. She was surprised, Hardy had been able to keep it together as much as he had when he shared the news earlier.

"I'm so sorry, Ed," she said weakly.

He shook his head. "It's been over a year since Ricky Gillespie nearly killed Alec Hardy and ruined his life forever. And now this scum bag has the guts to accuse _him_ of using undue force and claim self-defense?" Baxter spat the last words in his rage.

"Nobody is going to go for that. It's ludicrous," Ellie replied.

"They already did. The CCRC obviously saw something in the defense argument. If Hardy has to go to court again…," he trailed off, choked up with angry tears. He didn't need to finish. Judging from how Hardy had reacted to the news alone, a trial was a setup for disaster.

Baxter must have been even more shaken than Ellie realized because what he revealed next was certainly not for everyone's ears.

"They never prosecuted Gillespie for the injuries he caused Alec. And it's my fault because I lost control and shot him. CPS made a deal with his defense. The prosecution didn't go after Ricky for what he'd done to Alec and they didn't go after the police – or better said me – for Ricky's injuries. They were more worried about bad press over police brutality than about getting justice for one of their own." Baxter bit out the last words in disgust. His guilt was forcing deep lines onto his face. His head hung low when he confessed, "I never told Alec the details. He doesn't know _why_ the deal was made. He thinks it's his fault."

Ellie didn't know what to say to that. She thought about all the lives that had been ruined by this case. It was heartbreaking. She almost wished she'd never come to the seminar. Knowing this now, explained why Hardy was so taken aback when she had asked for his help with Danny Latimer's case. And still, despite all this, despite his fragile health, he had been willing to listen to her.

"Bloody hell," she breathed, letting out some of the tension she was feeling.

"Yeah, indeed, bloody hell," Baxter agreed with a groan.

He clambered to his feet. "I'm sorry if I came across abrasive, but I had my reasons. He seems to like you which doesn't happen often. So maybe it's a good thing you know the full story. Not many people do and we would like to keep it that way."

"Understandable." She cocked her head and searched Baxter's face. Then she smiled. "It seems he doesn't only have his daughter as his champion. You're a good friend, I hope he knows that."

Baxter's mouth curled up into a wry smile. "Ha, he mostly finds me annoying. Bloody wanker."

"Yeah, but that's the wanker way of expressing gratitude, didn't you know that?" Ellie joked, hoping to lighten up the mood.

Baxter snorted. "I'll keep that in mind when I go to his house now to yell at him for working despite knowing he shouldn't really."

"Don't yell too much. I wouldn't mind seeing him tomorrow. He's quite brilliant as a teacher once he gets over the initial grumpy shtick," Ellie stated hopefully.

Baxter squinted at her. Then after a few heartbeats, he relaxed and smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying his company. Thank you for saving his sorry arse today. He owes you one." His eyes twinkled and he winked at her. Then he swiftly walked off, without giving her a chance to figure out if he had just given her permission to run her case by Hardy. Not that she really needed his approval, but having his blessing felt right.

She slowly made her way back to her room. In the elevator she pulled out her phone, stared at it until the doors opened and then quickly typed a message to Hardy.

 **Be warned. Baxter is onto you.**

She was unlocking her room when she received a reply: **?**

Ellie grinned.

 **He knows about your little stunt today and is on his way to you.**

A few moments later, he wrote back:

 **Shit. I might have to leave town. How do you know anyway?**

Ellie's grin grew wider.

 **Not telling you.**

Her phone buzzed: **Seriously? Go to sleep, Miller. I'll see you tomorrow.**

Ellie put her mobile away and leaned back on her pillow. She had been right. This was going to be an interesting week.

* * *

A/N: LILY_DRAGON is giving this story a whole new depth. She endured endless questioning about silly UK law details and even more endless discussions about timelines, court proceedings, more timelines, sentencing and appeals, more timelines, dubious motivation of characters, more timelines, and a never-ending back and forth about one particular aspect of the story. She deserves all the credit for the shape that this thing is taking on. I had a skeleton (cheers hazelmist!) and LILY_DRAGON gave it some flesh. So THANK YOU for that and as I said, all kudos to her. I hope you'll enjoy the continuation.


	7. Chapter 7 - Chicken

**A/N:** All right, here we go. Finally the next chapter. Took longer than planned, but I had to finish poking holes into Alec Hardy's soul first (well, sort of finish, the continuation is already in the works). A big THANK YOU to Lily_Dragon who besides happily plotting away with me also filled in as a beta while hazelmist has gone to worship palm trees and beaches. Happy reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Chicken**

A bulky figure tackled Hardy the very moment he had dragged himself and the girl out onto the bank. His head got knocked hard against a stone. The river blurred, and his eyes stung with blood that was trickling down his brows. He clung to her body, water dripping everywhere. _'I did nothing,'_ a loud voice shouted into his ringing ears. Hardy couldn't let go though, and he cradled the limp child against his aching chest, wishing he could protect her from all the horrors of the world. Her bloated face swam out of focus, and when it was clearer again, Daisy's hazel eyes looked back at him, wide and dead. He choked and sputtered the river water out of his lungs. The blows to his body kept coming, over and over again, battering all life out of him. There was a final ripping sensation in his heart and he woke, gasping.

He clutched his burning chest, fighting for air. His breath was rattling in his lungs, telling him that the drowning sensation wasn't only due to his dreams. Slowly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He suppressed the urge to cough, not wanting to wake Tess. It was cumbersome to change out of his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, but necessary if he didn't want his sweat drenched body to get chilled to the bone. He peeled off everything, shivering in the cold night, and snatched the next best clothing items he could find. Then he staggered down the stairs to the living room.

By the time he made it to the sofa, he was coughing his lungs out. Maybe he should have listened to Emily and stayed at least the night in the hospital. He hadn't felt this bad in months. He pulled a blanket around his heaving shoulders and leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. It eased his labored breathing, and slowly he began to feel better.

A glass clunked against the coffee table and jerked him out of his exhausted haze.

"Here. Have some water. Did you take your pills?" Tess's tone was ripe with exasperation. He shook his head.

"Couldn't get to them," he rasped. She grunted and went into the kitchen to fetch the box with his medications.

She watched his trembling hands fumble with the blister pack for a bit until her impatience won.

"Bloody hell, just give it to me," she snarled and snatched it away from him. The sharp edges of the plastic scraped over his palms, leaving a stinging mark. He winced but didn't complain.

She popped the pills out and tossed them onto the table. Hardy bent forward and scooped them up wordlessly. He anticipated what was coming next.

"Alec, I can't do this any more. Your stubborn refusal of taking care of yourself properly is unacceptable. I want you to go back to the hospital where you should be," she demanded.

Hardy sighed. "Love, please let it go. I need to be with my family and not in some bloody ICU bed." Her face was drawn into an angry scowl, and he knew this time she wouldn't budge. "I'm tired, Tess. Can't we –"

" _You're_ tired?" she interrupted him roughly. "What do you think I am? All I do these days is drag you from one hospital to the next. I go to work, I shop, I put food on the table, I clean, I drive you and Daisy around. And when I finally get to go to bed, I get woken up half the times because of your poor health that you refuse to deal with," she concluded her furious tirade.

Hardy had heard parts of this before, but never had she thrown all of it at him like this. The burden he was putting on his family weighed heavily on him.

"'M sorry, Tess," he apologized, his head hanging low. "I try to do my best to help."

She snorted in disgust. "You don't do shit, Alec, besides make the situation worse. I don't care what the doctors say about things not being entirely under your control. Your reckless behavior and negligence is intolerable and it has to stop."

"What has to stop, Mum?" Daisy interjected, a challenge ringing in her words.

Tess's and Hardy's heads spun around. They hadn't realized Daisy had been listening.

"That he makes breakfast for us every morning? That he makes me dinner if you're not here? That he does the dishes every day? That he helps me with my homework when you're not around? That he helps me with the cleaning when he can? That he takes his medications and keeps all his doctor appointments? That he works a job he hates so that he can contribute to the family income? That he –" Her voice broke with her angry tears.

"Darlin'," Hardy said softly. He had clambered to his feet and had walked over to her during her rant. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry against his chest. He met his wife's gaze over Daisy's shoulder. Tears were tracking down her cheeks and his heart ached for her. She didn't deserve this, neither did his daughter. This was all his fault.

"Look at me, Daisy," he demanded and gently lifted her chin. Her wet eyes were ablaze with the anger she was feeling. "Your mother didn't mean it in a bad way. It takes a lot out of a person to take care of someone with a serious health problem. And –"

"But she doesn't," Daisy blurted out. " _I_ take care of you. And you take care of us. All she does is pick you up from the hospital. She's never around!"

It suddenly dawned on Hardy that Daisy had a point. Tess was indeed never around.

"Your mother works a hard job with long hours. You shouldn't be so harsh on her. I used to be the one who wasn't home, remember?" he defended his wife who was staring at him with wild eyes.

Daisy vehemently shook her head. "No, not true. You at least made an effort. She doesn't. Not for you, Dad."

"Daisy, please don't be like that. We've talked about this. Your mother cares as much for me as she cares for you. It's –"

"She has a funny way of showing that. Did you know she wants you to sleep in a different room so she can get better rest?" Daisy spat.

"Daisy!" Tess cried out admonishingly.

Hardy turned around slowly, feeling faint. "Tess, is that true? You don't want to share our bed with me?" he asked weakly.

One look at Tess's face was enough to know that Daisy hadn't made anything up. Not that he had ever doubted her, but it was hard to believe. Suddenly, it wasn't Daisy who needed the support of his arm around her shoulder. He leaned heavily onto his daughter who stood strong and tall.

When he found the strength to let go of Daisy, he walked out the door without saying a word. He heard Tess mutter his name, but didn't care. He made it to the bedroom and hastily grabbed the remainder of his clothes, heedless of the fact that he was wearing his suit and shirt from the day before. He collected his belongings and his pills, kissed a stunned Daisy goodbye, and left his house at the crack of dawn.

* * *

After an aimless walk through the misty morning, he ended up at Mary's Tea Room. He was soaked and his teeth chattered in the cold. Mary's cheery welcome and the warmth of the cozy interior helped to drive the chill from his bones. She knew him well enough to insist on feeding him a proper breakfast. His appetite was gone, but he nibbled obediently on the scone. Daisy's revelation had left him numb and hurt. It wasn't news to him that Tess had a tough time coping with his illness, but this was different. He loathed the fact that he had grown more and more dependent on his wife, despite trying so hard to shoulder the burden he had become. He'd let down his family, unable to even do such menial tasks as driving his daughter to school. The necessity to avoid any strenuous activities left him with a gnawing feeling of guilt and failure. And if he was honest with himself, humiliation as well. His debilitated body didn't allow him to be a _true_ husband to his wife of almost fifteen years, only underscoring how much of a disappointment he must be. Oddly enough, not having sex was one of the few things that never seemed to bother Tess.

Hardy took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His hands scrubbed over his red-rimmed eyes and stubbly cheeks. When his fingers returned to his lap, he'd hidden his despair behind the stoic expression that masked the ever growing anguish that was building inside of him. It was time to face the day.

The cab dropped him off and Hardy dragged his tired body up the stairs to the seminar room. He dreaded the day as the schedule called for him to go over interview techniques and how to break a suspect's alibi. Talking about the murderous trio was the last thing he wanted to do, and simply thinking about Cate made him choke up. His head was pounding, a stark reminder of the injury he'd sustained a little over a year ago. Sleep deprivation often brought on headaches, so Hardy had been expecting it. Considering the day and night he had had, he probably shouldn't be teaching today, but he needed the distraction. And maybe he'd have lunch with Ellie Miller again. The thought surprised him. She still hadn't told him about her case.

Baxter had ratted her out when he had swung by his house the previous evening. Hardy had hidden his mirth when he realized how puzzled Baxter was that Hardy had invited the woman to his home. Baxter had warned him to be careful, that Miller wasn't supposed to be at the seminar. Hardy wasn't sure if he should feel flattered that she'd sneaked her way in or a tad creeped out. He had chortled at the association of Miller and creepy. There had never been a less creepy stalker than Ellie Miller. Even Baxter had to admit that. What did make Hardy uncomfortable though, was that she had read his case file. He'd only seen it once. He had never finished looking through the whole bloody thing because he couldn't get past staring at the images of his battered self.

He'd taken his spot in the corner of the room and watched the crowd filtering in slowly. This morning, Miller wasn't late. She shot him a sheepish glance and found a chair in the back. Mike began his part of the session and Hardy zoned out. He'd heard it one too many times. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out.

 **Don't look so bored. You're undermining the morale.**

Bewildered, he scanned the room until his scrutinizing gaze got stuck on Miller's conspicuous grin.

 **Speak for yourself, DI Miller. You sure are a captive audience. Maybe learning about arsonists would have been more exhilarating.**

She tried to hide reading his message and failed miserably. Mike caught her and laid into her, calling her a repeat offender. Miller's face was impassive, but as soon as Mike had turned his back to her, she was on the phone again, typing away.

 **Ha, trying to be a smartarse, DCI Hardy? At least I don't need a chaperone who keeps tight tabs on me.**

Hardy raised an eyebrow and his lips curled up. He had to admit, picturing Baxter as a chaperone was amusing.

 **You still haven't told me about your case. Wouldn't want you to stalk me for nothing.**

He sent the message and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

 **Jesus Hardy. You and Baxter sound like a broken record. I'm NOT stalking you.**

Hardy grinned and looked over to her. She glared at him, rolling her eyes. He was about to reply when Mike tapped him on the shoulder. Hardy squinted up at him. It was impressive how much annoyance this man could convey with a single furrow on his forehead.

"DCI Hardy, would you be so kind and join us in the discussion?" Mike demanded in an overly friendly tone. Hardy's cheeks were heating up. He had no idea what they had been talking about. His eyes wandered over to Miller who was smirking from one ear to the other. Standing up, he caught sight of her last message: **Busted!**

He pushed himself onto his feet and stepped in front of the group. Immediately several hands went up and Hardy suppressed a sigh. He nodded towards the same person who had bugged him about the river.

"Is it true that you first suspected Ashworth because he said he'd had chicken for dinner and his wife said they'd had steak?" the young man queried eagerly.

Hardy stared at him. He hated that question. For the life of him, he couldn't understand what was so intriguing about the issue of the chicken versus the steak. It was so absurd, he almost wished he'd never made a point of it in his reports. But then how could he have known that he'd end up in front of a bunch of nerds who had declared the Sandbrook murders their holy grail.

"No," he stated curtly, pressing his lips together and ducking his head.

"But, sir, if he lied about the chicken, doesn't that imply he lied about everything else?" the DS insisted. Hardy rubbed his eyes and shoved his glasses up his forehead. Why did they always have to harp on about that?

"What did you eat last Wednesday night for dinner?" he asked, his voice muffled behind his palm.

There was a moment of silence and Hardy counted under his breath. He gave this one twenty seconds, a bit on the slower side. He surprised him when he replied in less than ten.

"I don't remember. Maybe fish and chips. No wait, I think I might have had Indian that night."

Hardy rubbed his hand down his face and sent a piercing glare in the direction of the DS. He waited for the penny to drop. He took way too much pleasure in watching his expression change.

"Oh," the DS whispered.

"Precisely," Hardy commented, not making any effort to conceal his sarcasm.

His eyes searched for Miller's. She was stifling a laugh, cupping her mouth with her hand. Hardy looked down and ducked his head again. At least she was having fun.

DS Chicken, as Hardy had internally named the young man, wasn't ready to give up so soon. "Still though, the two statements didn't match and Ashworth changed his version later."

Hardy scratched his eyebrow with his pinkie, sighing deeply. "Did you read the transcripts?"

DS Chicken nodded vigorously.

"Then you obviously know that even Ashworth himself made fun of me and the question about the chicken and the steak," Hardy pointed out, his exasperation growing. He was done with this and wanted to move on to the more important learning objectives.

"Exactly, he was trying to throw you off his scent," DS Chicken retorted triumphantly.

"Throw me off his scent?" Hardy echoed in disbelief, his voice shifting up a pitch. "What sort of horseshit is that?"

"Well, you know... distract you from the important stuff with the chicken instead of –"

"Would you forget about the bloody chicken already?" Hardy snarled, finally having lost his patience. "It didn't matter. Things like that don't matter. Only hard evidence is what matters, and that's what you lot never understand. You read this case file like a Sherlock Holmes novel and come up with these insane conclusions about what gave it away and what didn't. That's not what this is about. It's not a game, it's god damn serious. It's about finding the killers of a twelve-year-old girl and a nineteen-year-old young woman. It's about doing our job right so that we can make sure that it doesn't happen again. It's about justice and not letting them win."

After he'd finished his rant, Hardy's heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Until DS Chicken dared to speak.

"I still think the chicken versus the steak was important," he mumbled stubbornly.

"Ach, for fuck's sake," Hardy groaned, shook his head and tossed his glasses on the table. With a huff he indicated to Mike to take over and retreated to his corner.

His phone buzzed.

 **Wanna have chicken for lunch? Or do you prefer steak?**

Hardy's head snapped up. Miller was looking at him, eyes sparkling with her amusement.

 **I don't do chicken.**

Her reply came fast: **You could have fooled me.**

Their gazes locked.

 **No chicken and you can tell me about your case.**

"DI Miller, will you put that bloody phone away! This is the last time I'm warning you before I'll take it or you'll have to leave," Mike threatened her.

Hardy quickly typed **"** **Busted!"** before Miller pocketed her mobile.

She grinned. And so did Hardy.

* * *

They were walking down the wide stairs of the building. Hardy tripped twice over his own feet, and Ellie shot him a worried glance. In the morning, he had already looked exhausted. By now he was pale as a ghost. She'd noted him dozing off in his corner during Mike's closing remarks. They had agreed to go to the same coffee shop, but there was doubt growing inside Ellie that he'd make it there.

"So, Miller," Hardy began, ever so slightly out of breath. "Tell me about Daniel Latimer." His Scottish lilt was soft.

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn't told him the name of her victim. It took him a few of his long strides to catch up with the fact that she wasn't coming along. When he turned around, she was met with a raised eyebrow and that stoic expression that she couldn't read.

"What?" he questioned when she just stared at him.

"Did you go and look up the case?" she wanted to know, her eyes narrowing. There was heat building up in her stomach.

"Aye, I did. So?" He'd gone from stoic to puzzled.

"You spied on me!" Ellie exclaimed incredulously. Her face scrunched up in disbelief and she crossed her arms over her chest. The nerve this man had.

"Seriously, Miller? Need I remind you that you accessed a sealed case file and that you're not even supposed to be here in Sandbrook right now?" Hardy noted unapologetically.

"Ugh," she growled and stormed past him. Unfortunately, the wanker had a point.

She didn't realize he didn't immediately follow her until his voice trailed behind her.

"Millah? Did you see _all_ the pictures in the file?" His Scottish accent ran rampant, and when Ellie slowly turned around, she understood why. He was flushed, and his wide hazel eyes gleamed with deep embarrassment. Luckily for him, she shared the sentiment as indeed she'd seen _all_ the photographs, including the ones of his lower abdomen and pelvis region. She'd slapped her laptop shut as soon as it registered with her what she was looking at, but it had been too late. Her skin was burning when she lied to him.

"No," she piped less than convincing.

Ducking his head, he shoved his hands into his pocket and studied her with these intense eyes of his. "Right," he stated drily.

"Right," she echoed with the same tone. Their staring contest ended in a silent agreement to accept her lie as the truth. Hardy shuffled his feet.

"Let's not go to the coffee shop," he suggested out of the blue, his embarrassed rosy cheeks making him look healthier than he had all week. "Do you fancy Thai?"

"Do they have chicken?" she asked mischievously.

He expelled some air through his nostrils and stalked off in the opposite direction.

"Millah? You coming?" he shouted over his shoulder when she didn't move. She shook her head, befuddled by the fact that her desperate quest for help had driven her to tag along with this capricious man who she barely knew. She hurried after him, and if it hadn't been for his dodgy heart, he probably would have outrun her by miles.

When they fell in step with each other, Hardy slowing down and Ellie picking up her normal speed, he probed again.

"So, Danny was your son's best mate, ey?" His Scottish lilt had lost all its harshness and his gentle eyes flicked across the tense lines around her mouth.

"Yeah, he was," she answered tight-lipped. The image of Danny's limp body lying face down in the sand with the waves hungrily licking at his trainers played across her mind. And as always, the uncomfortable relief that it hadn't been Tom left her with an unbearable feeling of guilt.

Hardy made a clicking sound and rubbed his tongue over his teeth. He slowed down to a halt and stalled her with his hand on her elbow.

"Ellie, is this your first murder case?" he wanted to know. The tenderness in his voice surprised her. It also tore down the walls she'd built around her emotions. Her bottom lip quivered and tears welled up. He gave her a gentle squeeze on her arm and a sad smile.

"Pippa and Lisa were obviously not my first homicides." He paused, dropping his gaze. "But Pippa was the first murdered child in my career," he admitted, forehead pulled into a frown. His hand sneaked up to his chest, and Ellie got the distinct impression he was unaware of the gesture.

"Pippa reminds me of my daughter. Same age, long brown hair, tall, skinny, happy child," he confessed hollowly. His eyes were blank now, staring into the void.

It had been over a year, but Hardy still used the present tense. It struck a chord with Ellie, taking her back to many sleepless nights when the nightmare of Danny's body being replaced by Tom's lifeless figure on the beach had robbed her of much needed rest. Maybe the dark circles under Hardy's eyes were not solely to blame on his heart disease.

He blinked and the moment was gone. "'M sorry, Miller," he muttered and trudged on. Ellie followed him slowly, unsure what he was sorry for, but she took it as an expression of his empathy for her.

They walked in silence, each hanging onto their own thoughts, until they reached the tucked away restaurant. It was a small place with two separate rooms for patrons. A young Thai woman greeted Hardy enthusiastically, immediately babbling something about Daisy and how much she missed her coming there. Hardy blushed and graced her with a shy smile. He mumbled an apology for having been a stranger, and how upset Daisy would be if she knew he'd been here without her. The waitress laughed and led them to a table in the back room. Apparently, it was his usual spot. Absentmindedly, he helped Ellie out of her coat and pulled out the chair for her. Oblivious to her bewilderment at the unexpectedly chivalrous gesture, he plopped onto his seat and snatched the menu. He thumbed through it without really seeing it. Ellie studied her own, dead set on getting something that was as deep fried as possible.

The waitress came back with a teapot, cups, and a couple of water glasses. After she'd sat it down in front of them, she whipped out her note pad and smiled at Hardy.

"Are you getting the usual? Sweet and sour chicken?" she inquired, her pen hovering over the paper.

Ellie's eyes snapped up from the menu. The tip of his ears were red and he looked caught in the act.

"I thought you don't like chicken?" Ellie quipped.

"I don't," he groaned. "But Daisy does, and she likes to share her food," he explained sheepishly.

"You're kiddin', right? Have you been eating chicken all this time to please your child?" Ellie was dumbfounded.

Hardy nodded, mouth slightly open. His pale complexion had turned pink. Ellie sniggered. She exchanged a glance with the waitress who grinned and said,

"I win the bet."

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Hardy frowned. "What bet?"

The girls grin grew wider. "I bet my mother that you don't like chicken and only ate it because of your kid. She said I'm foolish. Now she has to take me shopping." She had a pleased air about her.

Hardy closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his fingers over them. He sighed in exasperation. "Could I just have the mixed vegetables? Steamed. With tofu." The last word carried so much disgust that Ellie couldn't hold back any longer. She laughed.

"I'm glad you find this funny, Miller," he growled.

Ellie reigned in her amusement, but not without a last quip. "Guess you found something that you like even less than chicken."

The girl giggled and Hardy shot Miller a daggered glare. Ellie placed her order of fried spring rolls and fried fish in orange sauce.

"All that fried food is gonna clog your arteries one day, Miller. It's a blessing you've got a good heart," Hardy grumbled when the waitress had left.

She looked up and their eyes met. "Who says you don't?" she said quietly. Hardy stared at her until she blinked and the spell was broken. Suddenly, he found the arrangement of the teapot and the water glasses way more interesting than looking at her. She hid a smile behind her cup. It had been the right choice to come to Sandbrook after all.

* * *

Hardy picked at his vegetables. Sometimes he really could do without his dietary restrictions. Or maybe with his own strict interpretation of them. He eyed Miller's spring rolls. He used to love those. He watched the plate magically move closer to him. There was one left. His mouth watered while his fork hovered aimlessly over the table.

"Live a little," Miller tantalized him. His gaze was fixed on the temptation he needed to resist. With the utmost willpower he put his long index finger on the rim of the plate and slowly, so slowly, pushed the offensive deliciousness back towards its rightful owner.

"I see," Miller said. "You're determination is not to be trifled with."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "No, it isn't," he agreed earnestly. A smile ghosted over her face and Hardy mirrored it.

"Tell me about Danny," he picked up where they had left of earlier.

She swallowed hard. "All right. Daniel Latimer, eleven years old. Found dead on Harbor Cliff Beach on July 18th. Autopsy showed he was –"

"No, Miller," Hardy interrupted her gently. "Tell me about _Danny_ , not the case."

Miller gave him a blank look. Her eyes grew more and more glittery, and her lower lip wobbled, just like before. He felt for her. The tragedy had hit too close to home for her to be able to detach herself properly. He and Pippa's ghost would know.

"He went to school with Tom, my boy. They'd played with each other since they were toddlers. His mother, Beth, and I had gone to the same birthing class. They were best mates. Did lots of things together; skateboarding, football, computer club. Danny used to come round a lot…," she trailed off, her gaze miles away.

"When did you see him last before he died?" Hardy prompted quietly when she didn't continue. He didn't want to inflict more pain, but there was nothing more important than to know _who_ the victim was and _who_ the people in their lives had been.

Miller tilted her head and frowned. "Never thought about it. But we were on vacation for three weeks in Florida and hadn't come back until the day before Danny was found."

"And prior to that?" The question came automatically, years of deeply ingrained habits kicking in.

Miller's nose scrunched up. "Seriously, Hardy?" she chastised him.

She'd recognized that tone that was usually reserved for inside the interrogation room. He shrugged and mumbled an apology. Snorting, she turned her attention back to her feast of artery clogging treats. He lowered his gaze onto his own sorry display of limp vegetables and soggy tofu. He sighed.

"You know…," she began reluctantly, "I don't think I had seen Danny in a while. A bit weird, considering that he and Tom had been so close."

He looked up, ran his tongue over his teeth, and nodded with his mouth open. "Is that so?" he said pensively.

Groaning frustrated, Miller tossed down her fork. "Ach, you're unbelievable. One question and you make me feel like a shit detective."

Hardy gnawed on a specifically rubbery piece of broccoli, hiding a grin. It was hard to deny how _much_ he enjoyed that she was so miffed. It had been a while since he got to do some real detecting. The desk job that Baxter had him chained to was anything but real investigative work. He probably should be grateful that he even had a job, that he had been able to return to the police force at all, but he _missed_ this – discussing a case, using his brain for something else than teaching how to do the job that they didn't let him do any more.

"Miller, don't be daft. I'm sure you're not a –" Hardy stopped abruptly. A movement in the mirror behind Miller had caught his attention. The flinging of the dark long hair, the smooth motion of the hand ruling it in was so familiar to him that it might have well been his own. Before he could get a closer look, the reflection was gone. He heard an incredibly _happy l_ aughter that he hadn't heard in so long. It was accompanied by a voice, equally as joyous, that made his heart stutter.

Slowly shoving his chair back, he turned while standing up. He staggered to the doorway that lead to the other room. Catching himself against the frame, he peeked around the edge. There was a flutter in his chest that he didn't notice. His world shattered when he saw the couple, the man's arm leisurely draped over the woman's shoulder who had hers wrapped tightly around his waist. They hurried out the door, and as soon as the bell indicated it had fallen shut, Hardy watched his wife tenderly kissing DS Dave Thompson like she hadn't kissed him in a long time, ruffle Thompson's hair like she used to ruffle his, and _beam_ at that man that had taken his wife away from him.

Forgetting everything else, he stumbled out of the restaurant, but they were gone. His mind blank and his heart aching, he put one foot before the other until he couldn't any more.

* * *

Ellie was annoyed at Hardy. How could he with one single question make her doubt her whole investigation? She couldn't blame anyone but herself for the intense feeling of failure that washed over her. After all she had to come here and discuss her case with Alec Bloody Hardy.

"Miller, don't be daft. I'm sure you're not a –"

Ellie waited for him to finish his patronizing statement, but he never did. She looked up, and was met by a frozen face that had lost all color and was staring mortified at something behind her. If someone had told her, there was a ghost lurking over her shoulder, she'd believed it. She spun around, but there was nothing besides an empty mirror. When she turned back, he had gotten up and slumped against the door frame, his body trembling. She craned her neck to spot what was captivating him so much, but she couldn't see anything. The doorbell jingled, and Hardy stumbled out of the restaurant.

"What the fuck?" Ellie cursed. He hadn't even taken his coat with him. She fumbled through her purse for her wallet and threw thirty pounds on the table. Snatching both their coats, she dashed after him. The dumbfounded waitress was shouting after her that she'd overpaid, but Ellie couldn't care less. When she'd made it onto the street, he was nowhere to be found. Ellie started walking in the direction she thought he'd seen him lurch off to.

He had frightened her. What could have set him off so badly that he seemingly forgot everything around him? A nagging fear for his well-being was growing inside her. Whatever problem his ailing heart had, it clearly wasn't very good at handling emotional distress. She froze and the hairs at the nape of her neck stood up when the blaring sirens of an ambulance whisked past her. She willed her body to go on, running after the emergency vehicle.

By the time she'd caught up with them, they were already packing up a limp body, covered with a sheet. She didn't get a good look, jumping up and down to peer through the crowd of nosy bystanders. All she could catch was a glimpse of a mop of brown hair and a paramedic who was squeezing an ambu bag to push air into their patient through a breathing tube. They heaved the stretcher into their vehicle, slammed the doors shut, and drove off.

The crowd dispersed, and Ellie was left standing on the sidewalk, staring after the ambulance and clutching Hardy's coat. Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn't cry. Instead she turned around and trudged off. She got lost at first, having been deprived of her guide, but eventually found the large brick building where the seminar was being held. Hardy's sidekick Mike snarled at her for being late. Ignoring him, Ellie walked over to Hardy's corner and carefully draped the coat over his chair.

Mike paused in his rant.

"DI Miller, where is DCI Hardy?" he asked with more concern than suspicion in his voice.

"He won't be coming back this afternoon," she answered quietly, hoping against all odds he'd be back the next day. He wasn't.


	8. Chapter 8 - Invalid

**A/N:** Sorry for the delayed update. Sometimes running three stories at the same time is a wee bit hard to juggle. A MILLION THANKS TO HAZELMIST and LILY_DRAGON who patiently looked it over. I owe you guys. I have some comments at the end...

* * *

 **Chapter 8 - Invalid**

It was the following Monday when Hardy signed himself out of the hospital. Nobody knew. He'd used the opportunity to escape while Emily was out sick, stricken by some bug that her young one had blessed her with. She would have never let him leave. Not this time. Not after his worst attack since Ricky Gillespie had nearly killed him.

Emily had tried to tease out of him what had happened, but he had feigned memory loss after being resuscitated. Baxter hadn't bought his lame excuse. He'd laid into him to come clean with the truth, but Hardy had kept his mouth shut. The toughest person to deal with had been Daisy. He hadn't been able to look at her and teared up every time she walked into the room. His tender apologies had only reached so far. On the prior day's visit, she had angrily stormed out, finally losing her patience.

When Tess came by, he had only two words to say to her – "I know." Her immediate comprehension of what he meant was harder to take than anything else. She didn't argue or attempt to defend herself. All she did was sigh in relief. She left him without much explanation besides stating snidely that she was glad she didn't have to be his hospital taxi any more. Her disdain for his weakness hurt. He never told her that seeing her and Dave Thompson had sent him into cardiac arrest and had brought him once again to the brink of death. For all he knew, she would have relished the thought.

He had no idea for how long they'd been having an affair, but in those long sleepless nights in the hospital, staring at the dimly lit ceiling tiles of the ICU, he'd pieced some of the clues together. It had to have been from the time before the Sandbrook murders. All along, she'd been betraying him. He was certain that if he hadn't been so gravely injured during the case, she would have most likely already left him. The thought didn't make him feel better. Some might surmise that it had been noble and selfless of her to stick with her ill husband. But he knew better. It had suited her. He had been useless, crippled by his disease, and not a hindrance to her affair at all. Having to stay home, he'd served as a good babysitter and a distraction for Daisy.

Daisy knew though, he was sure of it. The remarks that she had made lately, the way she'd been fighting with her mother that had been much more than simple teenaged defiance, the way she'd increasingly grown protective of him – all of it made so much more sense now. He hadn't been able to talk to her though, and he hated himself for that.

The hospital was fading away as he was leaving in a taxi cab. He wasn't going home. He'd chosen a cheap hotel where he could hide and lick his wounds until he would be able to face his wife. They pulled up, and he dragged his shaking body into the lobby. After dodging some uncomfortably concerned questions during check in, he finally staggered into his room. Exhausted, he slumped against the door. He looked around the stuffy room, buried his face in his palms, and crumbled to the floor. Tucking his knees to his chest, he gradually allowed himself to feel all those things he had locked away since his world had shattered. The tears were slow and hot with anger at first, but turned quickly into a steady stream of sorrow that threatened to rip him away with it. Once the dam was broken, there was no holding back. He cried until his head throbbed and his chest ached so much that he thought it would burst. Still sobbing, he shoved down some of his pills, crawled to the bed, but was too weak to climb up onto the mattress. He clawed at the tucked in sheets, dragged one down together with a pillow, and curled up on the floor, heedless of the cold and hard surface.

Eventually, Morpheus showed mercy on him, and sleep delivered him from all the pain that was drowning him all over again.

* * *

Baxter walked into an empty hospital room and almost had a heart attack himself. He stormed out into the hallway and roughly grabbed the next best hospital employee he could find by the arm.

"Where the hell is Alec Hardy?" he shouted into the poor housekeeper's face. The woman gave him a blank stare and whimpered at his tight grasp. He realized what he was doing and let go, muttering an apology. He tripped over her cleaning supplies in his hasty stumble to the nursing station. Her pleased grin didn't escape him, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

"Where the hell is Alec Hardy?" he repeated, his voice sharp with his demand.

The head nurse, who was very familiar with the usual drama surrounding one of their frequent flyer patients, ushered him into her office.

"Mr. Baxter, please stop terrorizing my staff. Bad enough that Alec Hardy is doing it, I don't need another person stirring up more fuss," she admonished him like a child.

He huffed. "Where the hell is he?" He sounded like a broken record.

"He left. Signed himself out this morning." Baxter felt the heat rise from his neck to his face. "I take it you didn't know," she sighed.

"Where is Emily Abbott?" He seriously needed to find a new line. This was becoming rather ridiculous.

"She's out sick," the nurse explained. "Hardy seized the opportunity. Gotta give him that, crafty man."

"God damn it," Baxter cursed. "I'm going to kill him." He had his phone out before he had even finished swearing. Of course the bloody idiot didn't answer. He left him a threatening message that would have frozen anyone's blood, said thank you to the nurse, and ran out the hospital as quick as he could.

He called Tess next. She picked up promptly, answering her boss' call. Before she could say anything, he bombarded her.

"Where the hell is Alec?"

There was silence at the other end.

"Tess?" he demanded.

"In hospital," came her hesitant answer.

"If he was in hospital, I wouldn't call you and ask where the fuck he ran off to. So, where the fuck is he?" Baxter was losing his patience.

After a few more moments of silence, she finally answered with a sigh, "I have no clue, Ed. I haven't seen Alec in five days."

Baxter stopped abruptly. His stomach knotted up. "What do you mean, you haven't seen him in five days? Didn't you visit him?" The uneasy feeling was growing by the second.

"No. I didn't. I take it he didn't tell you then?" Tess questioned carefully.

"Tell me what?" he growled. His eyes closed in anticipation of the answer he feared would come out of her mouth.

"We had a falling out," was all she gave him.

"Tess, I realize it's none of my business, but I deeply care about Alec. We both are well aware of how ill he is, even if he likes to pretend he isn't. So, please don't give me this ambiguous shite. He's not answering his phone, you have no idea where he is, and I highly doubt that he just went home to lie in his bed and sleep. Who knows where he wandered off to, and what he is doing to himself because he's upset with you. His poor judgment since the brain injury puts him at risk and –"

"I'm getting a divorce, Ed," she stated bluntly, interrupting his rant.

"Excuse me?" he stammered, having to catch his breath.

"Alec found out that I'm seeing someone else. We're done. And I'm done babysitting him and his reckless behavior. He's not at the house, and I haven't heard from him. I doubt he'll call me or come home," she added with rising impatience.

Baxter was so furious at her that he couldn't talk. His heavy breathing reverberated in the phone until Tess finally spoke again.

"I'm going to hang up, Ed. Oh, one last thing. Don't drag Daisy into this. Bad enough that he already has her riled up against me, don't need more people interfering." A click in the line signaled the end of a call that left Baxter in shambles. No wonder that Hardy hadn't talked about what happened. It must have been overwhelming.

Baxter closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths and focused on the next step. He needed to find him. Hardy was in no shape to be left alone. For more than one reason. An idea took hold. It was abuse of police power, but he didn't care. He called Craig Murphy and ordered him to track Hardy's credit card and bank account, as well as to triangulate his phone. Craig was quiet for a moment. Then he said he'd get right to it, not posing any questions.

Forty-seven agonizing minutes later, Baxter had the name of a hotel in his hands.

* * *

Hardy woke to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. A startle shuddered through his body. His heart skipped a few beats, but thudded on faithfully.

"Alec?" Baxter's voice was soft, however clearly concerned. Hardy groaned and forced his eyes open. The cold floor had leeched out whatever warmth he'd had in him. Shivering, his teeth began to chatter. Baxter pulled him up and dragged him onto the bed. He piled the duvet and blankets over him and propped him up on a couple of pillows.

"What are you doing here?" Hardy coughed.

"Taking care of you, you bloody moron," Baxter replied with much more warmth in his voice than his words conveyed.

Hardy grunted and sank deeper under the blanket.

"How did you find me?" he rasped. He had a suspicion, but couldn't believe that his boss Baxter would go that far. Apparently his friend Ed would though.

"I asked Craig to access and track your credit card account and triangulate your phone," Baxter stated, unashamed of his actions.

"I should report you," Hardy growled without much conviction.

"I talked to Tess," Baxter revealed quietly.

Hardy closed his eyes and fisted his hands into the sheets.

"She told me that you found out she's having an affair. Is that what set your heart off?" Baxter wondered.

"I took Miller to a restaurant that I only take Daisy to." Baxter looked up, poorly hiding his surprise when he mentioned Miller. "I… I saw _them_ there. Tess doesn't know that." He raked his fingers through his hair, grazing over the scar on his scalp. "I tried to follow them, but didn't get very far. Should not have done that, but I sort of blanked out. Completely forgot where I was and what was going on around me." As soon as he admitted to his mental lapse, he knew it had been a mistake.

"Bloody hell, Alec. You told me you were doing better. How often has that been happening?" Baxter demanded to know.

"It's been getting worse again." His admission came way too easily, underscoring that he was losing whatever grip he had on his actions.

"Undoubtedly. Otherwise you would have never confessed to it." Baxter's eyes found Hardy's. There was a sadness in them that riled Hardy up more than Baxter's words.

"I'm not an invalid, Ed," Hardy stated angrily.

It was a lie – a lie that he needed to tell himself to be able to keep going. When he had come out his month-long coma, he had been physically mostly functional. His heart had been a much bigger issue when it came to his body failing him. He'd barely had any language issues once he'd overcome the initial confusion. Dealing with the memory loss was frightening, but in the end the events that had changed his life forever were the only thing that remained inaccessible to him. It wasn't until a few months later that they had realized the brain injury that he'd sustained that fateful day at the river had left its permanent marks. He had seemed fine until the time he had disappeared for a day or so. When they had finally found him at the river, disoriented and hypothermic, he couldn't even understand why they had been so worried about him.

He had woken the day before after one of his horrific nightmares and had decided it was time to face his fear. He had simply wanted to see where his life had changed forever. It hadn't occurred to him that going to the river on a cold December morning might not have been the most prudent idea. After all he'd taken his coat. He stayed there the whole day, unaware of how much time had passed, and when the light of day had faded, he'd been too tired to leave. He'd forgotten to take his phone, and for the life of him he couldn't think of what else to do. So he had sat there all night long, brooding over what had happened to him. It had seemed logical to him, nothing wrong with it. He now _knew_ that it had been utterly irresponsible, but it still _felt_ like it had been fine.

Tess had yelled at him and scolded him like never before. He was so ashamed of his actions, but defiant at the same time as he had no awareness or insight into why people around him were freaking out. He'd done what appeared right to him. He hadn't intended to hurt or worry anyone, he had simply wanted to have some time to _think_. Daisy was the only one who hadn't been mad at him. She had been concerned. He was proud of her because she had been smart and resilient, and in the end it was his little girl who had figured out that there actually _was_ something wrong. But not because he'd been an arse, but because he had been hurt.

After she'd made her case to her mother and Baxter, he'd undergone a battery of assessments and endless encounters with psychologists, neurologists, and whoever else might have had an interest in obsessing over his damaged brain. The most annoying thing was that he himself felt fine. His memory issues had resolved, his reasoning skills when it came to police work where as sharp as ever, his language skills were pristine, and his temper was as unruly as it had been all along.

When they were done with him, it turned out that some of his reckless and unreasonable – well, unreasonable to others – behavior apparently wasn't his fault. They called it problems with higher cognitive functions, such as issues with judgment, impulsivity and risk taking. Hardy couldn't believe them which conveniently enough was part of the symptoms as well. They also gave him an excuse for the mood swings, his low tolerance for stimulation, and the depression that had been creeping up on him. They made him go to all kinds of therapy which over time taught him how to recognize his weaknesses and how to deal with them. It didn't make anything go away though. Most people around Hardy would have never known, he'd learned to disguise himself well. But his family and close friends felt the brunt of it.

Like Baxter who was sitting on the bed and smiling kindly with his hand resting on Hardy's leg.

"No, Alec, you're not an invalid. And I know that," was all he said. Hardy dropped his gaze and tears started to well up.

"I did it again, didn't I? Do something reckless and stupid," he croaked in between sobs. Baxter pulled him into a tight embrace and held his heaving body against his chest.

"It's all right. You didn't do anything you haven't done before. And you're upset and hurt," Baxter comforted him. Then he pushed him away so he could look him in the eye.

"Did you eat something today?" When Hardy shook his head and wiped at his snotty nose with the back of his hand like a little child, Baxter grinned. "Of course not. How about this? I'll take you to my house. Louise can feed you - you know how much she likes doing that - and you can stay with us for now."

Hardy nodded, his mouth slightly open. Suddenly the hotel seemed like a stupid idea, even to his addled brain. Baxter didn't waste any time and helped Hardy out of the bed.

"Did you bring anything?" he asked, doubt lacing his words.

"No. There wasn't anything but my clothes, phone and wallet at the hospital," Hardy admitted. He cringed, realizing how very little thought he had put into his escape plan.

"Right," Baxter sighed. "Where's your coat then? It's raining," he added, almost successfully hiding his exasperation.

Hardy stared at his friend with wide eyes. "I dunno."

There was an air of defeat in Hardy's voice. He hadn't noticed until then that he didn't have it. It had been a birthday present from Daisy two years ago and had become his favorite piece of clothing. He had to hold back tears of frustration, fighting the feeling of losing yet another piece of his life that meant something to him.

Baxter's expression softened. "Maybe we can find it, hm? Let's get you out of here first." Baxter nudged him gently. Then he wrapped him in his own jacket and led him to his car.

They rode in silence. When they got to the house, Hardy held Baxter back, clasping the older man's shoulder.

"Thank you, Ed. And I'm sorry," Hardy apologized out of habit.

Baxter patted his hand and smiled. "No need to be sorry. I'm here for you, that's what friends do."

Hardy's lips curled up the tiniest bit and he followed his friend inside the warmth of the house. Maybe not all was lost after all.

* * *

Daisy showed up a few hours later, equipped with two big suitcases with his belongings. Hardy eyed them silently and shot a questioning look at his daughter.

"Mum said I might as well bring some of your things," Daisy informed him.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the hallway wall. His gaze rested on his child that had been forced to grow up so much in the last year.

"Who packed them?" he wanted to know, already sure of the answer before she opened her mouth.

"Not Mom. She doesn't know what you like anyway. Especially not since you've been deemed a looney," Daisy quipped to ease the tension.

"Oi, the proper term is victim of traumatic brain injury," Hardy retorted. Then he grinned. "I'm a looney with a mechanical reason. That's very different from your plain old crazy person."

Daisy sniggered. "I still believe you bribed those doctors to give you an excuse to do stupid shit. It's remarkable how whatever they think has been affected matches up nicely with your personality quirks."

Hardy snorted. "I guess I was lucky then, ey?" There was a tad too much pain in his words for them to pass it off as a sarcastic joke. They looked at each other until Daisy dropped her gaze, sniffing.

He sighed and waved her to come over for a hug. She shuffled her feet but didn't budge. Her eyes were fixated on her socked toes that rubbed against one of the suitcases.

"Are you really moving out?" she whispered.

"Oh, darlin'," he breathed, closing the distance between the two of them. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent down to be on eye-level. "What did your mother tell you?" he asked cautiously.

He hadn't had a chance yet to talk to Tess since the day he let her know that he was on to her. There was nothing to be gained if he accused her of anything in front of his daughter without her being there. Daisy sniveled and tried to be brave. It pained him to see his child like that.

"Mum said that you had a falling out and that you preferred to stay at Ed Baxter's house for a while." There was an undertone in Daisy's words that a week ago he wouldn't have known what to make of it. Now it was different. He couldn't be sure, but his suspicion that Daisy was aware of what was going on was growing by the second.

"Dad, she's having an affair," Daisy cried out suddenly. Her voice was trembling with fury, and her hazel eyes were dark and wild.

Hardy squeezed his eyelids shut and pulled her against his chest. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. So was his heart that was thudding up his neck. "I know," was all he could get out.

"When did you find out?" Daisy wanted to know, lifting her head to look at him. Before his haywire brain could filter his answer, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Last week. I was having lunch with Miller and I saw them. Don't remember much after that until I woke up in hospital."

 _Shitshitshit._ He berated himself and cursed his fucked up brain. He'd confirmed that Tess was responsible for his most recent cardiac arrest. In horror, he watched Daisy's face pale and then turn bright red.

"I fucking hate her," Daisy raged and kicked one of the suitcases.

"Daisy, please. Don't say that. She's your mother. What happens between her and me is exactly that - between her and me. She doesn't love you less because of this." His words were spoken with too little conviction despite him meaning them. He tried hiding his shaking fingers and blinked away his own tears. One of his hands came to rest on the handle of the taller luggage, barely steadying him in a world that was spinning faster and faster.

"I –" His chest was too tight to continue, and he slowly sagged onto the suitcase. From there he slid to the ground. Daisy was shouting for help, and the whole Baxter clan rushed to see what was going on. Emma took care of the hysterical Daisy who had lost all her abilities to stay calm. Baxter patted him down, frantically searching for his pills, and Louise ran to fetch her mobile to call 999.

Baxter shoved the tablets in Hardy's mouth. His hand didn't leave Hardy's neck, feeling for the fluttering pulse. Eyes closed, Hardy focused on breathing and swallowing the medication. It probably took only a few minutes for the drugs to kick in, but it stretched to an eternity. By the time the ambulance had arrived, Hardy had recovered and vehemently refused to go back to the hospital. Daisy was screaming at him until Louise took her into a different room and left Hardy with Baxter and the increasingly annoyed paramedics.

"Alec, please be reasonable. You shouldn't take this lightly. I don't want to disrespect you but –"

"I'm not being reckless, Ed," Hardy shouted breathlessly. "This happens all the time now, and I know how to deal with it. Take the damn pills and wait it out."

"No, Alec, it doesn't happen all the time that you find out your wife is having an affair, and you suffer a cardiac arrest right after. I spoke to Emily today. She gave me the whole rundown about the heart. You're lying to yourself as usual. That has to stop. I don't want to drag you back to the hospital, but I have no choice. You're not listening, and I think part of it is because –"

"If you say because of my brain, I _will_ hit you," Hardy threatened, balling his hand into a fist.

"Erm… do you still need us?" one of the paramedics chimed in.

"No." Baxter and Hardy shouted in unison.

The paramedic groaned and they scampered off, leaving the two squabbling men behind.

Baxter helped Hardy up and maneuvered him to the guest room at the end of the hallway. Hardy fell heavily on to the bed and buried his face in a pillow. He had enough, too much stimulation, and he could feel himself wearing thin.

"Where's Daisy?" he mumbled longingly.

"I'm right here, Dad," she said softly into his ear.

Groggy, he slurred an apology. It became harder to think clearly and formulate the correct words.

"It's all right." Her warm body snuggled against him, providing comfort and solace. He meant to tell her so many things, but he was too addled and sleep came quickly with her by his side.

* * *

When he woke, he was alone. After a moment of profound disorientation, he remembered where he was. The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the drawn curtains. Yawning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The scent of frying onions and garlic drifted through the house. Hardy's lips curled up. Louise was a strong believer in feeding her guests proper food. He padded over to the kitchen.

Daisy was helping Louise, chopping vegetables with more skill than Hardy would ever have with a knife.

"Oh, look. Sleeping beauty has risen," Daisy announced with a broad smile.

Happy to see her, Hardy trudged over and pressed a kiss on her head. She pulled him down next to her and shoved a zucchini and knife his way.

"You trust me with this?" he asked doubtfully and eyed the blade which seemed way too sharp to come anywhere near his fingers.

Grinning, Daisy shrugged and grabbed the carrots and a grater.

"Dad, where is your coat? You didn't lose it, did you?" There was slight disappointment in her voice.

Hardy put down the knife. Biting his lip, he tried to remember the details of that day. It was harder than he liked to admit to himself.

"I might have left it at the restaurant. I took Ellie Miller to Thai Spirit and..." he trailed off. Tess's reflection in the mirror and her clear laughter ghosted through his mind.

"You took Ellie to our restaurant?" Daisy asked in disbelief, not noticing her father's distraught features. Hardy sucked in air sharply through his nose and shook off the tormenting image of his wife kissing another man. He focused on Daisy's quizzical face.

"Yup, I did. Was getting tired of salad," he answered innocently. He wasn't sure why not only Daisy was staring at him as if he'd done something outrageous, but also Louise seemed to be suddenly way more interested in their conversation than the meal she was preparing.

"Were you now?" Daisy piped up. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that Ellie is the first person in forever that you seem to like?" she added grinning.

"What? God no," Hardy exclaimed. "I don't _like_ her. I mean, she's all right. Talks a lot. She figured out I don't fancy chicken. And she's been trying to get me to eat all the things I'm not supposed to. Clearly a bad influence and a bit nosy. She's seen my file. _All_ of it. She –" His rant was interrupted by Daisy's laughter and Louise's giggle.

 _Bollocks._ He'd done it again. He groaned and dragged his hands over his face. Daisy wiped a tear from her eye and resumed grating the carrots. He'd always had a tendency to ramble, but ever since his injury, he'd slipped into it without realizing what he was doing. It was driving him bonkers, especially when Daisy used it to get him talking about things he'd rather not talk about. _Bloody child._ A smile crept onto his face. He couldn't be mad at his daughter who deserved a few lighthearted moments in her life.

"You could call her," Daisy suggested with a suspiciously level voice.

"Sorry?" His head snapped up when he jerked out of his thoughts.

"You could ring Ellie Miller and ask her about the coat." A broad grin was brightening up her face.

Hardy ran his tongue over his teeth. Reluctantly, he nodded. It seemed reasonable enough.

"Go on then, Dad. We can manage in here," Daisy encouraged him.

"Right," he breathed and pushed himself up. His mobile was in the guestroom. He hadn't even checked it since he'd left the hospital that morning. It might have been worth looking at it earlier. Scrolling through the half a dozen of texts Miller had sent him, he pondered if he should feel flattered or frightened by her increasingly foul language. When he listened to the voice mail she'd left he ducked unconsciously, and instant guilt washed through him. Too intimidated to ring her, he started typing a message.

* * *

It had been a typical Monday so far. Tom couldn't get his budding teenage self out of bed until Ellie stormed into his room and yanked his blanket away. Tom was livid about the intrusion into his privacy and slammed the door once Ellie retreated. The loud noise and the yelling scared Fred. Unfortunately, he had the habit of hiding in the bedroom closet when he was afraid. It was a dangerous place of comfort for someone with poor coordination and tiny pudgy fingers. His wailing rang in Ellie's ears while she iced the rapidly discoloring thumb that had been maimed in the closet's sliding doors. Joe appeared to be oblivious of all the mayhem and busied himself with producing the perfect omelet and perfect cup of coffee. He succeeded, and Ellie couldn't help herself but smile at the childish pleasure he took in watching his family wolf down their breakfast. She took another swig of her coffee and promptly spilled some on the lapels of her suit jacket.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, rubbing frantically at the stain. Her other jacket was at the dry cleaners.

"Mum owes money to the swear jar!" Tom yelled from the hallway.

"Oh, shut up you little sh –"

Joe came over and swooped her up. Pressing a kiss on her lips, he prevented her from incurring an even higher penalty. When he pulled away, he grinned and said, "It's good to have you back, El. I missed you last week."

She smiled and rubbed her hand over his bald head. "Is that so? You could have fooled me with all that grouchiness over the weekend."

Joe had been disgruntled ever since she had come back late on Friday night. When he had asked her how her week had been, she had poured out how frustrated she was that despite all her efforts, she hadn't gotten anywhere with the person she had hoped could help with Danny's case. Joe had scowled at her and forced her to confess that the only reason she'd gone to begin with was to meet Alec Hardy. Yet again, he had chastised her for her obsession with the case. How could she go so far and sneak into a seminar only to talk to some man she'd never met before? She was about to tell Joe that she'd saved Hardy's life at lunch, when Joe lost it. How could she be so naïve and hang out with that man? What if he turned out to be some sort of philanderer that would take advantage of her? The image of Hardy smooth talking his way into a woman's heart and possibly pants had left Ellie panting with laughter. Joe didn't find it funny at all, and they didn't talk until after breakfast the next morning.

"I'm sorry, El. Don't know what was bugging me. I'm just glad you're back." He pecked another kiss on her cheek and sent her off with a mug of delicious coffee in her hand. She didn't remember the stain on her jacket until she noted CS Jenkinson's frown when she was ordered into her office for a _'talk'_.

The morning brief was miserably slow. Ellie had to curb her annoyance. Half the things she'd asked her team to get done while she was away hadn't been touched. No new leads had come up after they'd finished reviewing the town's CCTV. The only thing they had learned was that Danny had sneaked out the night he died. The house-to-house inquiries hadn't brought much information, and the final pathology report on Danny's body only confirmed what they already knew. Forensics was working on sorting out potential evidence they'd found at the beach. They still didn't have a clue where the murder scene was. She glared at the way too empty whiteboard.

Hardy's words popped up in her head. _'You need to know who the victim was. What did they do every day? What did they like? Who was around them? And you can't trust.'_

He had asked her about Danny, so maybe that was a place to start. Who had Danny really been beyond the school boy with a skateboard? How come he had five hundred pounds hidden under his bed? Hardy was right, there was more than what met the eye.

Slowly, she began to share her thoughts with her team. "What do we know about Danny? Why did he sneak out? Where did the cash come from? What were the things he did every day? Have we looked into that?" She turned around, searching her colleagues' wide-eyed faces.

"He had a paper round," DS Frank Williams suggested. Ellie doubted the money was Danny's lifetime savings, but it was something they hadn't worked on yet.

"Good. Let's start with that. Frank, you go walk the route. See if there is anything of interest," Ellie ordered enthusiastically, finding her stride.

"We could go over his social media profiles again. Maybe we can pick up on something," DC Nish Patel added with an eager face.

Something suddenly clicked in Ellie's brain. Danny and Tom had the same smart phones, she'd seen them fussing over them. However, the number that Danny's parents had given them was linked to a simple mobile. There had to be two phones.

"I think we should consider the possibility that Danny had more than one mobile," she thought out loud.

"I'll look into that as well," Nish said, scribbling something on her notepad.

Content that there was something they could work with, Ellie dismissed her team. Her eyes fell on CS Jenkinson who had quietly observed the meeting.

"Ellie, can I have a word with you, please?" Jenkinson beckoned her to her office.

 _Bollocks._ The look on her boss' face wasn't confidence inspiring.

"So, fancied a trip up north instead of going to London?" Jenkinson began pointedly as soon as the door closed behind the two women.

Ellie's cheeks were flushing. "Yah, about that...," she trailed off and shot Jenkinson an awkward smile.

"Why didn't you say you wanted to go there? I wouldn't have objected. Alec Hardy is a brilliant detective and one can only learn from him. I've known his ACC since the academy, and he speaks very highly of him." Jenkinson shook her head. "It's a shame that after what happened, he's not fit for active duty any more."

Ellie tried to shake the images of Hardy's battered body. Jenkinson didn't even know half the story.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Hardy? I hear he's a bit of a recluse." Curiosity laced Jenkinson's words.

Ellie smiled. That was an understatement. Funny though that despite having the reputation of being a grumpy loner, she and Hardy seemed to get along just fine. If it hadn't been for his bloody heart disease, she might have actually made some headway with him.

"Yeah, we talked. Didn't have much opportunity though. He..." – she hesitated for a moment – "... was indisposed."

Jenkinson's eyes narrowed, but she didn't comment. Instead she changed the subject. "Ellie, we have to make some moves on the Latimer case. It's been a month and we don't have any substantial leads. Can I trust you to handle it or do we need to talk?"

Ellie bit her lip. She'd been afraid of the day when Jenkinson would lose her patience. This was Ellie's first murder case, and it couldn't have come at a more challenging time, right after she had been promoted to DI.

"No, ma'am. I've got this. We are looking into a few new angles, and I'm confident we'll make some progress soon," she reassured her doubtful boss.

Jenkinson raised an eyebrow. "I hope so. Maybe your trip to Sandbrook was helpful after all."

Ellie nodded silently and prayed that they would dig up some new leads.

After Jenkinson had dismissed her, she hurried to the ladies' room. She looked around briefly, making sure that no one was there, and then kicked the stall door with vigor.

"Shitshitshitshitshit," she pressed through gritted teeth. Her foot hit the plastic hard again and Nish walked right in on her. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Ellie ran off, bright red in her face. God, how she loathed Mondays.

* * *

Frank came back excited after walking Danny's paper round. He'd found several locations that could be of interest as a potential murder scene. They were standing in the kitchenette getting tea.

"I'll get SOCO to search the cliff top hut first." He was bubbling with enthusiasm. "There is also a CCTV camera for the car park there which we haven't looked at yet."

Ellie nodded and hid a content smile behind her cup. She was distracted by Joe's text messages about Fred's swollen thumb and Tom's refusal to do his homework. Another text came in and she pulled her phone out with a sigh.

It wasn't from Joe though. She nearly dropped her mobile, spilling hot tea over her fingers.

Alec Hardy's name lit up the screen, followed by a message: **Sorry for not replying. They had my phone confiscated.**

Frank leaned against the counter and gave her a sideways glance. "So, did you meet Hardy at the seminar?" he asked at the same time Ellie was reading the text and burning her hand.

"Bloody wanker," she exclaimed. Yelping in pain, she dropped the phone.

Frank's eyes widened. "I take it you did have a run in with him then?"

Ellie glared at Frank while she was running cold water over her smarting skin. "I sure did," she growled.

She'd texted Hardy several times and eventually left a voice mail to find out if he was still alive. There had been no answers. Finally, she'd tracked down Ed Baxter's number. He had let her know that Hardy was in hospital, slowly recovering from a cardiac arrest. She shouldn't be annoyed at Hardy for not replying, but worry had gotten the better of her. She'd become very creative with the names she'd called him.

Rinsing her hand, she sent Frank off to supervise SOCO before he could ask more questions. Then she picked up her phone and typed a message.

 **You're alive. You scared the shit out of me. What were you thinking, running off like that?**

It took a while for him to write back: **Was running after a ghost. Sorry about that.**

And then: **Do you have my coat?**

Ellie rolled her eyes.

 **Seriously? You die on me and then all you ask about is your coat?**

Her phone lit up again: **I like it.** **Daisy gave it to me for my birthday. So, do you have it?**

Ellie's scowl softened. Despite being such a bloody knob, there was something heartwarming about this man's love for his daughter.

 **Your sidekick Mike's got it. I took it from the restaurant and brought it back to the seminar.**

This time his reply was quick: **Brilliant! Thanks, Miller. I owe you.**

She grinned at his excitement.

 **You're welcome. And** **yes, you do owe me.**

She added: **Are you better?**

She didn't get another message until much later. It was short and opened more questions than it answered.

 **I left the hospital.**

She was about to write back when Frank barged into her office.

"I think we might have found the murder scene!" he exclaimed, face flushed with his excitement. Ellie dropped everything that she was doing and ran after her team. Finally they were getting somewhere.

* * *

 **A/N:** All right, some of you might want to throw something at me at this point. And some of you might feel like they are done with all the horrible things I can come up with that happen to Hardy. I can understand both parties. Honestly though, after what happened to him on that fateful day down by the river, he shouldn't really get away unscathed. And I don't mean the heart. If you're patient and willing to go along, you'll see how certain things will play out. I hope most of you will still continue reading and bear with me because there is still a lot to come. You may yell at me though in the comments.

Oh, and about Tess... those of you who have read "A Million Holes" might know that I've always tried to give Tess a bit more depth than the one dimensional villain. I have to admit in this story, she's turning out a wee bit meaner than I had intended to. I hope you can forgive me that lapse as I feel for me this story is about different things than Tess and Alec's relationship falling apart. When we meet them, it sort of already has happened and that year or so that she stayed with him where she maybe shouldn't have didn't do any good for her general disposition. Not trying to make excuses, but only explaining to those who might be wondering why it's so different in this story.


	9. Chapter 9 - Trust

**A/N:** First, I have to apologize for the time it took to update. Got busy with writing "The Ocean Breathes Salty" and fangirling over DT in New York (it was lovely and he wished me a happy birthday and I have a picture and my brain is still fried). Here we are now, finally continuing this story... Hardy is dealing with his new realities and Ellie is detecting... enjoy! A million thanks to HAZELMIST for reading through it and also to LILY_DRAGON!

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - Trust**

Hardy stared at Karen White's smug grin. He'd been doing so for the past twenty minutes because he couldn't bear looking at the other photographs that were littered throughout the despicable piece of writing. The foul words were already challenging his heart; he didn't also need to see Ricky smiling mockingly at him. His eyes got stuck again at the bold letters on top of the page.

" _Victim of Paranoid Police Detective Finally To Get Justice?"_

The juicy headline was followed by a brief paragraph leading up to the full article which summarized how Ricky Gillespie had suffered ever since the day the police had laid hands on his presumably innocent body. The grieving father of a murdered child who had been charged, convicted and sentenced for the alleged manslaughter of his own niece was now seeking a review of his case by the Court of Appeal.

Karen White opened her story with a long tirade about how Gillespie had been wronged by South Mercia Police Force, in particular the then Detective Inspector Alec Hardy who had since been promoted to Detective Chief Inspector. Facts did not find their way into her account, and there was certainly no mention of the brutal beating that Hardy had received by the hand of the oh-so-innocent Gillespie.

Karen White was more than aware of what had happened to Hardy. Baxter had nearly throttled her that day she'd sneaked her way into the ICU while Hardy was comatose and defenseless. There was a rumor that Emily Abbott had actually slapped her when she found her trying to take pictures. He shuddered at the thought. Whatever Karen's plan had been, it had never seen the light of day. His friends had made sure of that.

Taking in a deep breath, he refocused his attention on the article. He didn't have to strain his imagination to read between the lines. It was obvious that Karen was out for his blood. She'd been successful. Tess had called Hardy this morning, spewing insults and angry words at him the moment he'd picked up. She didn't care for the horde of journalists that had greeted her as soon as she had stepped out of the door of their home. Hardy groaned and corrected himself. The house – it wasn't _their_ home any more.

His hand absentmindedly wandered to his pocket to fish out his pills. The blister pack was empty. Hardy frowned. Hadn't he just started a new one this morning? He couldn't remember. He had a hard time deciding whether the fact that he might have gone through a whole round of pills in not even half a day or that his memory was failing him miserably was more concerning. Either way, his body was betraying him, but what else was new? Huffing in disgust over his weakness, he pushed himself up and traipsed to the guest room to dig up more of his medication.

The vultures from the press hadn't figured out yet where to find him. Since his collapse last week, he hadn't gone back to work. Baxter with MacMillan's support had forbidden him to return. It was probably for the best. He had no desire to sit at his desk all day long and stare at Dave Thompson's happy face. He might have to punch it.

Restless, he circled around the bed, one hand firmly planted on his hip, the other rubbing over his tired eyes. Sleep had eluded him yet again. Pippa's ghost had been accompanied by vague but nonetheless disconcerting images of her father battering Hardy.

When Hardy was awake, he had no recollection of that day, but in those semi-lucid moments between waking and sleeping, his body remembered. The first time it had happened, it had been exceedingly frightening. He hadn't known what to make of the intense fear and nearly physical sensation of someone beating him. What had pushed him over the edge though, was that noise echoing through his head. It had taken him more than one nightmare to figure out that somewhere in his injured brain the memory of his skull cracking against the rock had hidden and now was haunting him together with Pippa's and her father's faces. He had never told anyone until one night he woke screaming. Daisy had come to comfort him and he had sobbed into her arms, spilling all the horror he'd been struggling with. The next day, Daisy had called Emily, and a week later he had yet another therapy session to go to. It didn't make the dreams go away, but at least he had learned how to calm himself. It was lifesaving, quite literally so, as his heart didn't take kindly to being jolted out of sleep at any given moment.

The past night had been no exception, if anything it had been worse. Hardy plopped heavily onto the bed. His leaded eyelids drooped shut only to jerk open mere seconds later.

"Alec?"

Hardy blinked at Baxter who was leaning against the doorframe. He grunted a reply and Baxter stepped into the room.

"Did you talk to Tess this morning?" Baxter wanted to know.

"Aye," Hardy sighed and sat up. "She was ready to bite my head off. As if it was my fault that Karen White is on a warpath."

Baxter's eyebrow arched into a high bow. "I made some inquiries. Apparently she has some connections in the prison that Gillespie is at. She was granted an exclusive interview with him which she was planning on conducting today."

Hardy's eyes widened and he stared at his friend. Considering the reaction her venomous article had evoked, he didn't dare imagine what a write up of a conversation with the presumed victim of his wrong doings would result in. The probability of a shit storm coming his way was high, and that might be the most benign outcome.

"Should I leave the country now or can I have a goodbye dinner with my dau–" He broke off abruptly. He hadn't thought of Daisy. His last encounter with a pack of journalist hunting them down had sent her running while he was distracting them.

"Is Daisy okay? They didn't get to her, did they?" The tremble in his voice betrayed his worry.

"She's fine," Baxter reassured him. "Tess took care of it. She asked for a civilian escort for her, and MacMillan approved it wholeheartedly. Daisy protested, but she's smart enough to stick with Swenson."

A load was taken off his chest. DS Swenson was one of the best officers he knew and he trusted her completely. She was also young. She and Daisy had hit it off the moment they met. Hardy didn't find out until much later why they'd become friends so easily. They were swapping stories about him. Daisy had been way too pleased when she told him and he'd been mortified. Ever since then, Swenson had this glimmer in her eyes when she spoke to him and he was fighting a perpetual blush in her presence.

"God, I can't tell you how much I regret having laid hands on Gillespie. If it hadn't been for that, he'd have no grounds to come at us now." Hardy scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he lifted his eyes to look at his friend. "It's all my fault," he mumbled.

An odd expression flicked over Baxter's features. His pensive gaze rested on Hardy and his jaw was clenched. Hardy knew him too well. Something was bothering him. If he hadn't known better, he'd say Baxter appeared guilty.

"Alec, I need to talk to you about something." Baxter's voice was heavy with a sorrow that was rare to shine through. He sat down next to Hardy on the bed, playing with the seam of the blanket. His uncharacteristically nervous behavior rattled Hardy who was already on edge.

No further words followed the announcement until Hardy lost his patience.

"For God's sake, Ed, can you behave like yourself and not like me. The tightlipped shtick is mine and not yours," Hardy snapped and climbed to his feet. He resumed his restless pacing.

Baxter dropped his gaze and finally began to talk.

"I've never told you what really happened that day on the river."

Hardy froze. He turned around slowly and pierced Baxter with his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Baxter didn't look at him. "Alec, the reason why the CPS prosecutor dropped the charges for battering you had nothing to do with whatever harm you might have inflicted. You barely broke Gillespie's nose."

A deep furrow parted Hardy's forehead. He towered over Baxter whose head was hanging low.

"Gillespie's injuries were much more significant than that," Hardy stated, his Scottish accent creeping up on him. He was confused. What was Baxter talking about?

Baxter raised his head and his eyes found Hardy's. They were moist. "Alec, I shot Gillespie and would have killed him if the other officers hadn't dragged me off of him."

Hardy sank down on the chair opposite the bed, feeling faint.

"You shot him?" he uttered in disbelief. Baxter nodded. Nobody had ever shared that part of the story with him. They'd kept it a secret. For what reason, he had no idea.

"And you didn't tell me? Why?" His voice was flat, devoid of any reaction to the shocking news.

"You were too ill to –"

"Horseshit!" Hardy interrupted him shouting. He jumped up and took one big step to be face to face with Baxter. His heart was thudding in his throat. "You better tell me the whole bloody story right now or I'm going to lose it." He stabbed his long finger against Baxter's shoulder. "And I want the truth this time, not some watered down shite suitable for the invalid."

Baxter didn't fight him. He made him sit down and began to share his tale. Hardy listened, growing tenser with every word. His hands curled into fists, gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly that his knuckles were as white as the sheets. Baxter's account was brutally honest, not missing any of the gory details. Nausea washed through Hardy when his vivid imagination conjured up the images to Baxter's words. The sound that haunted him in his dreams threatened to drown out Baxter's shaky voice.

Baxter paused and placed his hand on Hardy's arm. "Are you all right? I don't have to –"

"'M fine. Go on," Hardy pressed between his gritted teeth. He wasn't, but he needed to know. He caught Baxter's worried glimpse out of the corner of his eye. "M fine," he repeated with as much conviction as he could put into those syllables.

Baxter's expression was doubtful. Regardless, he continued, "I had wrestled him off you. Your blood was everywhere. We were..." – he paused briefly, swallowing hard – "We were rolling in it and it distracted me. I lost my grip and Gillespie slipped away. I had brought my gun and without thinking about it, I fired it. I hit his leg and he fell down."

Hardy's labored breath was cutting through the silence. He didn't want to picture the scene, but it was impossible not to. When Baxter didn't go on, Hardy looked up. Their eyes met and Hardy realized that his friend was crying. He'd never seen him wear his emotions so openly on his sleeve.

"Alec, I was convinced he'd killed you. He'd broken your arm, most likely injuring your heart with that, and smashed in your head on a rock. I didn't notice you breathing. Your face had this grey color you see on the bodies in the morgue." He broke off again, wiping at his cheeks.

Hardy suppressed the urge to gag. Maybe he didn't want to know after all, but there was no turning back now.

Baxter sucked in some air and continued, "I lost it. I lunged at him and kneeled down on him like he had moments before on you." Baxter lifted his trembling hands and stared at them. "And then I put my gun to his head and was about to pull the trigger. I told him that he'd killed you and that I would kill him in return. I think it might have been Thompson who pulled me off of him and took my gun away."

Baxter fell silent, tears still running down his cheeks. Hardy shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the room temperature. He was horrified. The long list of his injuries was stored away as information somewhere in his messed up brain, but it had never been connected with the actual events as he only remembered in his dreams. Not any more though. Now he had a vivid depiction in his head.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he announced, getting up. He made it out to the hallway before his knees gave way and he thudded to the ground. Baxter pulled him up, but it was too late. Bile rose to his throat, and he retched and gagged until he was a trembling, sweaty heap of misery. He curled up into a ball, leaning his back against the wall. Baxter kneeled right next to him, holding a wet towel.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you," he apologized while wiping Hardy's face.

Hardy shook his head, unable to speak. He'd wanted to know, although he had to agree with them. It had been better that they had withheld the truth. His recovering mind and body wouldn't have been able to handle it. He barely could now. A few deep breaths later, he was finally able to formulate some words.

"Thank you. You saved my life." He put as much sincerity in it as he could muster.

Their gazes locked. Baxter didn't reply. Instead he pulled him briskly into a fierce hug. Hardy clasped Baxter's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Nothing needed to be said. They struggled to their feet and Baxter helped Hardy to the bathroom to wash up. By the time, he had finished, Baxter had cleaned up the mess in the hallway.

Hardy tugged on his ear and eyed Baxter sheepishly. "Should have let me do that, Ed."

"What? So that you can pass out on me while mopping the floor? Do you have any idea what Louise would do to me?" Baxter seemed to have found his composure and with it his sharp tongue. Hardy hid a smile. The confession couldn't have come easily and Hardy understood why.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he balanced himself against the wall. His eyes wandered up to the ceiling. "I still don't understand why CPS offered Gillespie a deal, especially as I clearly did not use undue force. Gillespie attempted to murder me. It fits his behavior – unhinged when enraged. It could have helped his course of prosecution. Why would Barnstein go for that?" he wondered out loud.

It took Baxter a long time to answer. "Gillespie's legal team threatened to come after me and the police force in general. It was decided to drop the charges for attempted murder in exchange for them not pressing the angle of police brutality."

Besides his shallow breaths, Hardy didn't move a muscle. He couldn't. If he had, he would have cracked. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, and he resisted the urge to blink his burning eyes.

"I didn't want that. I told them I don't care what happens to me. I wanted the bastard charged and convicted. MacMillan almost had a stroke over it, but Barnstein didn't budge. He argued that nobody but me had witnessed what Gillespie did to you. His defense claimed you fell and hit your head because of your heart condition, and when Gillespie tried to help you, your arm was injured. They explained the rib fractures were due to the resuscitation and the injury to your spleen was a result of the broken ribs. It's bogus, but conceivable. Those were Barnstein's words. And then they produced the statements of the other officers who saw me trying to shoot Gillespie while cursing at him and swearing revenge." The words tumbled out of Baxter's mouth, pressured by the guilt that he'd been feeling for so long now.

Hardy closed his eyes. "And now this fallacy is being punished," he commented hollowly.

"Alec..." Baxter trailed off, leaving Hardy guessing what he had wanted to say.

"Who knows about the details?" Hardy inquired. Not that it really mattered. The damage was done.

"Not many people. Barnstein and his assistant. One higher up staff member within CPS. MacMillan of course and CS Fairbanks from DPS. Besides me, that's it."

Hardy opened his eyes and searched Baxter's face. "Tess didn't know?" He was surprised.

"No. Nobody was told anything. It was all hushed up. There were rumors about a deal, but no one figured out the dirty little secret." Baxter's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Something nagged Hardy. "Tess says she could never understand why I didn't pursue legal action against Gillespie. When I told her about the deal, she seemed surprised." Hardy found Baxter's eyes. "But Dave Thompson was there right with you. He must have told her something."

"Why would Dave tell –"

Hardy's death glare shut Baxter up.

"Oh, my god. It's Dave?" he whispered.

Hardy nodded, his lips pressed into a sliver. It was the first time he acknowledged who the other man was. Shame and embarrassment heated his face. There wasn't much that rendered Baxter speechless and this admission was one of those rare moments. A questionable honor that Hardy could have done without. He pushed off the wall, trudged by Baxter and patted him on the shoulder.

"I think it's been going on since before the case," he informed him tonelessly. Baxter's eyes widened.

"But that's close to two years," Baxter muttered more to himself than Hardy.

"Aye," Hardy confirmed flatly. His hand slid limply off Baxter's arm. The few steps to his room seemed to take up all his remaining strength and he staggered onto the bed. Before he drifted off, one question popped up in his exhausted mind.

"Did you tell Ellie Miller?" he mumbled, eyes already closed. Baxter had had a conversation with her after she'd snooped around in his file.

"Erm... actually I did."

Hardy cracked his lids and peered at his friend. "Why?"

Baxter frowned and appeared genuinely bewildered. "I don't know. It seemed the right thing to do."

The corner of Hardy's mouth curled up. "I bet she's great at interrogating people," he muttered before sleep took over.

* * *

Ellie stared at Mark Latimer's boyish grin. She'd been doing so for the past twenty minutes because she couldn't bear looking at the other images in the file, unable to process the information they were providing.

SOCO had done an excellent job at the cliff top hut. A bloody fingerprint turned out to match Danny's. It had felt like hitting the jackpot. Until she got the call that the only other print they'd found was Mark's.

And then she'd reviewed the CCTV footage from the car park. Her heart almost stopped when she recognized Mark waiting in the deserted lot in the dark.

The first thing she did was to review Beth's and Mark's original statements about that night. Mark had been out on an emergency call. Ellie wondered what sort of "plumbing" emergencies one might encounter in an empty car park in the middle of the night. She cringed at her own sarcasm. It hurt, because Beth was her friend. Realizing that Mark had lied so blatantly about the night his son was killed saddened Ellie. For a split second, she wished it wasn't her who had to wade through all the murky lies that seemed to come up the longer this dragged out.

Jenkinson had been appeased by them discovering the murder scene. The townsfolk of Broadchurch, however, were not pleased at all. More and more disgruntled voices followed Ellie around wherever she went. Only yesterday in the supermarket, she'd overheard someone complaining why she was shopping for groceries when she was supposed to catch a child murderer.

Beth had been the hardest to face. Her hopeful and trusting expression had turned into a questioning frown. They hadn't talked about it, but the tension was tangible. She didn't want to think about what Beth's reaction would be when she would have to bring in Mark for questioning. There was no way around it though. Sighing, she got up and grabbed her windbreaker.

She was glad that Frank was driving as she was too distracted with agonizing over what it would mean for Beth and everyone else if Mark had anything to do with his son's death. It was an impossible thought. Mark loved Danny, just as much as Joe loved Tom and Fred. Those men would never harm a child.

Ellie walked up to the Latimer house with heavy steps. Chloe opened the door and took her to the kitchen.

"Oh, hi Ellie. What are you doing here?" Beth's voice had a sharp edge to it.

"Is Mark around?"

"Mark?" Beth looked at her in surprise.

"Yeah. We need to ask him a few questions." Ellie felt uncomfortable under Beth's piercing stare.

"Why do you need to question Mark? Shouldn't you be out there and follow leads or whatever it is you lot do?" The accusation was obvious.

"Please, Beth. Is he here? We simply need to clarify some things with him," Ellie pleaded with her friend.

Beth tossed down the dish towel. The lines that had been growing more prominent over the past weeks stood out in her pale face.

"Seriously, El? It's been a bloody month and the best you can do is to go after Mark?"

Ellie held Beth's angry gaze. It wouldn't do any good to back off. They had finally found new evidence and it needed to be explored fully. Even if that meant hurting the very people who had already suffered.

"Listen, Beth, we have our reasons. I promise you I'm not wasting my time. We are working with what we've got which is not much."

Beth grunted and turned her back to Ellie. "He's in the yard," she let her know coldly.

Ellie lingered for a moment, hands hidden in her pockets and mouth pressed to a thin line. "Right," she mumbled and left Beth behind in the kitchen.

* * *

She found Mark cleaning some of his plumbing equipment in the small garden behind the house.

"Mark? Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, El. Any news?" He didn't bother looking up from what he was doing, not expecting anything earth-shattering from her. Ellie dreaded the question despite for once actually having made some progress.

"I wanted to ask you a few things about the night Danny died," she began reluctantly. Mark's practiced moves halted for a split second. If Ellie hadn't been watching him like a hawk, she would have missed it. The uneasy feeling that she'd had since she saw the CCTV tape dug deeper into her stomach.

Focusing on his task, he said, "Okay. Go ahead. It's not like we haven't already talked a million times about it."

Ellie didn't like the edge in his voice which unnerved her even more. She was done beating around the bush.

"Mark, where were you that night?"

This time his hands stilled and he looked up. "Out on a call. I've told you before." A twitch ran over his tight jaw. His gaze wandered past Ellie. When she followed it, she saw Beth peeking out of the kitchen window.

"No, you were not," Ellie stated quietly.

His face paled, but he didn't lose the put on smile that was meant for his wife who was observing their interactions. A furrow parted his eyebrows when he returned his attention to Ellie.

"You haven't found the killer and now you're grasping for straws. Is that what this is about, ey?"

"You lied to us, Mark. CCTV footage of that night puts you close to where we believe Danny was killed. What sort of plumbing emergency did you attend to at the car park on top of Briar Cliff at 7:30 P.M.?" Ellie scolded herself for the sarcasm, but Mark's petulant behavior had riled her up.

"Oh, you're snooping after me now? Am I a suspect?" Mark crossed his arms in defiance.

"No. This isn't snooping, there's a method to this. It's nothing personal, Mark."

He shook his head, his expression one of disbelief.

"First we eliminate people from the investigation. We thought we had done that for you. New evidence came up. If you don't want to share the facts, then I can't eliminate you and you become a person of interest," Ellie explained curtly.

Mark squinted at her, his face distorted with a brief flash of pain. "In the murder of my own son?"

Ellie bit her lip, holding Mark's gaze. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. Shuffling from one foot to the other, he asked, "What day of the week was it again?"

"Thursday night," Ellie reminded him of something that she was sure he didn't need reminding of.

"Oh. I might have mixed it up then. I was out with a mate that night. The call out was the day before." He shot her a sheepish glance. "Sorry, El."

"Sorry?" she echoed incredulously. "You're kiddin', right? Your son was murdered and you lied to us about where you were that night." Ellie's anger was burning hot, and with it doubt was growing who else might have been untruthful, who else she might have judged wrongly.

 _Don't trust._ Hardy's mantra suddenly hit her with its full force. He'd learned the hard way and she was following down his path.

"Who was the mate?" she inquired sternly.

"I don't remember."

Ellie lost her patience. "You don't remember the night Danny was killed?" she exclaimed. "You don't seriously believe I'm buying this shit."

Mark glared at her, his eyes flicking over Ellie's shoulders again to where Beth was undoubtedly still watching them. Ellie had a bitter taste in her mouth when she probed, "Mark, is there any reason why you don't want to reveal the name of your mate?"

He remained mute, but Ellie knew him too well. Guilt dug lines around his mouth.

"Where did you go?" she demanded to know.

Shrugging, he answered, "Dunno. We drove around. Had tea. A drink."

"That's not good enough," Ellie interjected. "I will need you down at the station for official questioning. You can either accompany us right now, or I'll have a car come round to pick you up first thing in the morning."

Mark's boyish face pleaded with her. "Please, El. Don't do this."

"You're not leaving me a choice, Mark." Ellie glanced over her shoulder, giving Beth a smile she didn't feel. The blinding sun outside obscured Beth's features, but her restless movements betrayed her tension. Years of friendship got the better of Ellie. "Fine. I'm not taking you now, but you better show up nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning."

Mark nodded silently, and Ellie fled the house that she had spent so many Sunday suppers at. It probably was a mistake to give Mark time to come up with a story. Ellie couldn't help herself though. If the evidence hadn't forced her hands, she would have never doubted Mark.

Frank, despite being a chatterbox, sensed her distress and left her alone on the ride to the station. She pulled out her mobile. She twirled it around for a while before she started typing a message.

 **You were right. Can't trust.**

In an afterthought she added: **What does 'I left the hospital' mean anyway? Did you discharge yourself to go to your own funeral?**

By the time they reached the station, Hardy hadn't written back. Ellie shoved her phone in her bag, fighting the snubbed feeling that was growing in her. _Bloody knob._ Why couldn't he at least be civil? She was short with Nish and Brian, and when she finally got home long past everyone's bedtime, her mood was as foul as it could be.

She trudged up the stairs, dreading the next day when she'd have to interview her best friend's husband about his possible involvement in the murder of his own son. The door to her bedroom was cracked open and she caught a glimpse of her sleeping boys. All three of them were cuddled together in the big bed, leaving no room for Ellie. Sighing, she sneaked into Tom's room and squeezed into the small bed. A memory of Danny and Tom having a pillow fight in the middle of the night brought tears to her eyes. She hugged one of the very same pillows that Danny had thrown at her when she'd come in, furious that they hadn't been sleeping. Burying her face in the fluffy cushion, she cried until she drifted off to an uneasy slumber.

* * *

Hardy's sputtering cough rattled through the room. Panting, he sat up. His shirt stuck to the skin between his shoulder blades, reminding him of river water soaked clothes clinging to his body. His fingers felt for the pills on the nightstand and promptly knocked over a glass that someone had left for him.

"Shit," he growled, shaking off the drops of his mobile. The notification light flashed eerily through the dark room. Hardy fell back onto his pillow, riding out the pain in his chest until the pills kicked in. He was still clutching the phone. It was way past midnight. Squinting, he deciphered the messages. A frown crept onto his forehead and he rolled over to put on his glasses. Then he scrutinized the texts again. He hadn't misread. The disappointment that Miller hadn't written back the day before was replaced with an odd sensation he couldn't name. Propped up on his elbow, he tapped out an answer.

 **I'll give you the address of the funeral home to send flowers to. And don't you dare pick daisies.**

It took him a bit longer to think of a reply to her first more cryptic words. She'd resumed working on the case, so it might be safe to assume it had something to do with that. He wondered what had taken her full attention this past day. Scratching his scruff, he picked up his aching body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe it was time to do some detective work. A smirk played over his lips when he padded into Baxter's study and turned on the computer.

An hour later, he'd dug up everything about Daniel Latimer's murder that was available in the police force's database. Who would have thought that his bloody desk job would pay off one day? Baxter surely hadn't intended for him to poke his nose into current cases of other jurisdictions when he'd given him full access privileges to the entire network. It had come with his new responsibilities as lead of the Cold Case Unit. He didn't hate the job, but it wasn't anything like working in CID. His failing body hadn't given him a choice and it came as close to being on active duty as he could be.

Hardy stared at the most recent forensics report from Broadchurch CID. They'd found the murder scene. And with it the fingerprints of the father of the murdered child.

' _You were right. Can't trust.'_

Hardy's gaze fell on Miller's words. Running his tongue over his teeth, he retrieved Miller's personnel file. He might burn in hell for this violation of privacy, but it confirmed his suspicion. She was born and raised in Broadchurch, had only left to go to the academy from what he could tell. He leaned back in his chair, expelling air sharply through his nose. Hardy had never liked small towns. Everyone knew everyone, and all those fake smiles were lying to one's face. Miller was too close for her own good. He didn't need to be there to be certain about it. He'd nearly made the same mistake, letting the fact that Pippa had reminded him so much of Daisy blind him to Gillespie's involvement. He'd paid dearly for that error in judgement.

He grabbed his phone and slowly typed another message.

 **Everyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances. If you want to trust someone, then trust me on this one.**

His thumb hovered over the send button. He shouldn't meddle, but Miller's desperate plea to listen to her about the death of her son's best friend had lingered with him. He pressed the button the same moment her reply came through.

 **What's the address? I'll make sure you get what you deserve for waking me up in the middle of the night. Are you ever going to answer in a timely fashion?**

Hardy shook his head and rolled his eyes.

 **Oi, I was sleeping. Remember – bum ticker and such. What's your excuse for not answering?**

He listlessly clicked through the case file again, waiting for her come back.

 **Everyone is capable of murder – what sort of stuck up trite shite is that? Most people have a moral compass.**

Hardy snorted. If she'd said that to him before he pulled a dead child out of a river, he might have agreed with her. Not now though.

 **Compasses break, Miller. Again, trust me, I've seen it.**

Her answer to his previous message popped up. It wasn't easy for Hardy's addled brain to keep those two parallel conversations straight.

 **I was working while you were having a beauty sleep. We found the murder scene.**

He'd been right with his assumption that that had been what had kept her busy. Maybe he hadn't lost his edge yet. A pleased smile flicked over his face. It disappeared when he read what she had to say next.

 **Bloody hell, Hardy. I've known these people my whole life. You don't know them. My instincts tell me they didn't kill Danny.**

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses up his forehead. How could he help her understand?

 **I wish I could tell you to trust your instincts. I trusted mine and you know how that ended for me. You have to look at your community from the outside now.**

She wrote back quickly: **How can I be outside? How can I be objective if I don't want to be on the outside?**

Hardy stared at her words at a loss for what to say. He might have been able to view his community from a distance, but he hadn't been able to detach himself from the stronger bond of being a father. And he hadn't even known Pippa. It must be unbearable for Miller. His screen lit up again.

 **It's painful to think it could have been one of them. How did you do it, Hardy? How did you get through this without it breaking your heart?**

His fingers were faster than his mind: **I didn't.**

As soon as he had sent it, he wished he could recall the message. His ears burned and his teeth tried to take out his embarrassment on his lower lip. He was quite the moron, talking to her about his broken heart.

His gaze was fixed on his phone, nervously awaiting her reply.

It was short: **I see.**

And then: **Did you get your coat back? Because if not, I could give you mine. Orange would go well with your pale complexion.**

Hardy grinned. Deflection from emotional outbursts were his specialty. He knew how to play that game all too well.

 **That coat is an eyesore. Daisy would murder me.**

Teasing Miller was a guilty pleasure that he relished indulging in. Apparently she was sharing his feelings.

 **Ha, you might be in for a surprise. She liked my jacket.**

Hardy turned off the computer and slowly made his way back to his room. It had gotten chilly and his bare feet were cold as ice. Shivering, he slid under the blanket and snuggled against his pillow.

Sleepily, he typed away without thinking much: **If Daisy approves, I'll take it. When are you bringing the father in for questioning?**

The buzzer of his phone rattled loudly through the night. Why was she calling him now? He picked up and was greeted by her angry voice.

"You wanker! Have you been spying on me?"

Hardy frowned. Holding the phone at a distance, he reread what he'd written. _Bollocks._ He'd given himself away.

"Hardy? Answer my question!" she demanded.

"No," he croaked, his head burning.

"Bullshit. You're lying. How else would you know about Mark?"

"Fine," he groaned. "I might have taken a quick look at the case."

Hardy cringed. He'd done more than that, but he wasn't going to tell her.

"I should report you."

"Seriously? May I remind you that you bribed someone to get access to my case file," he retorted drily.

A growl crackled through the line, followed by a mumbled reply. "Call it even then."

His grin turned into a yawn.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, Hardy? You know, bum ticker and such."

Hardy snorted. "Shouldn't you be too?"

"You woke me up to tell me I shouldn't send daisies to your funeral," came her sarcastic reply. "And then you had nothing better to do than share your shit philosophy with me."

"It's not a shit philosophy, Miller," Hardy sighed. "It's the truth."

The silence dragged out and Hardy had to fight to stay awake.

"Hardy! Are you falling asleep on me?" Her sharp words cut through his dazed mind.

He sniffed and muttered, "No."

"You were snoring."

"No, I wasn't," he grumbled, very well knowing that he might have.

"Then what did I say?"

"Something about my shit philosophy?" He hoped he hadn't missed too much of their conversation. Judging from her moan on the other end, he probably had.

"Go to sleep, Hardy," she sighed. "You're useless like this."

She couldn't be more right. All he could do these days was look at other people's work and come up with some snide remarks. He hated his life.

"I know," he admitted sadly, while drifting off again. "Bloody broken heart." Fatigue slurred his speech and he didn't notice the desperation that had crept into his words.

"It's all right," she said softly. "You need to rest. There's plenty of time to bicker tomorrow. I've got Mark Latimer coming in early in the morning."

He was almost gone, when he mumbled, "If you got Baxter to talk, I bet you're a star in the interrogation room."

Hardy never heard her sarcastic reply that was meant to deter from how touched she was that he'd given her his vote of confidence. He'd finally fallen asleep for good, a smile on his face and the echo of her voice fighting off the sound of gushing rivers and cracking bones.


End file.
